Old Oak
The old oak has
dark histories
within it's grain.
Historic passages
within it's fiber,
count the tree rings
for mystic correlation.
The wind blowing
and sweeping over
the undulating landscape
giving up no ghosts.
You withhold the
tragedies past and
up to present all
within your sap.
Roots so deep,
to hold past causes
down well beneath
the surface.
Your branches sway,
nay is your answer
and secrets captive.
Another hundred years
pass and the trunk
and plot yet thickens.
18th June, 2012 (c)
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