The Lonely Oak
A single tree
An oak born long ago
One thousand year of life
Still lush with dark green foliage
She stands regally on the top of stony hill
Her wood still strong
Still growing despite her age
Her leafs turn from green to gold and back again
Following the cycle of the sun
She lives alone as she looks over the land below
Others of her kind have shared the rock
The children she gave birth to over the years
Trying to take root they just wither and die at her feet
And again she is alone
People come and visit her
Standing in the shade of her canopy
They look at her through differing eyes
Some think of her as a table and chairs
Never mind her age and beauty
They want her ripped apart by teeth of steel
Smoothed, stained and varnished
Their voices fade into the air
As no one listens to their words
Others see her already as a piece of art
Created by nature
Shaped by the wind, the sun and the rain
Those voices turn into a chorus
A chorus which cannot be ignored
And she remains standing
Leafs full and green
Birds nesting raising their young
Singing the notes of nature’s symphony
She will live for another thousand years
For those who love her
Make sure she is safe for all time
As she should be
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