Notes About The Poem
Poetry Marathon Mile 16
Old Mister Oak
Old Mister Oak had bumps on many sides.
In his tired arms, black birds often reside.
He had seen all kinds of neighbors in his life,
watching the husband working and the wife.
He was the largest king of mighty trees,
for a hundred years, he’d danced in the breeze.
Children had used him to play at their games,
as he laughed at snowstorms, ice, wind and rains.
Seasons came and went with time passing by.
Many lives stood under his watchful eye.
Lovers carved their initials in his skin.
Smiling, he prayed, forever blessing them.
Mister Oak’s bones started to creak when he swayed.
Sometimes an arm or two would just give way.
One day an owner built a pool in his yard.
Earth movers’ trauma hit Old Mr. Oak hard.
In autumn his leaves turned but didn’t fall.
They hung there brown for an expert to call.
He said he was dying from shock and such.
The shifting of his roots had been too much.
Old Mister Oak had to face his life’s end.
The last ounce of living this tree would defend.
His limbs hit the ground and jarred Mother earth.
Saws snarled as they grappled with his thick girth.
He closed his eyes on the green garden world,
and sighed as his life began to unfurl.
That glowing fire of a room rosy, warm,
comes from old Mister Oak, many years long.
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