Water Oak
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They call me the Water Oak. My roots are strong and wet.
No rain or wind or outside force has hindered my growth yet.
I was planted by the river to nourish from its source
to be the keen observer at this juncture of its course.
For centuries I’ve labored with my black and twisted girth
burdened by great and weighty limbs that sag to Earth.
You might call me cumbersome, ugly in my form.
But I am as the Tree of Life from mankind’s early dawn.
In the forest and the swamp, I’ve ruled for many years
and as green moss does cover me, I shed the aging tears.
Oh, see my grand reflection in the silver water’s glow
as I rest on ground untouchable by the river’s flow.
3/12/20
Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2020
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