wind shakes my oak tree
she moves like an old rag doll
leaves as limp as yarn
Oak Tree Hiku 46
lonely oak tree
battered by storms and men~
nature`s grace standing tall.
~
~ o ~ ~
~ y ~ a ~
~ l ~ ~ k \ \
~ e ~ t \ \ s and m>e>n~
n r \ \ \ m
o e \ \ \ r
l e \ \ o ~
\ t ~ i ~ n
s –h –a –t –t –e –r –e -d by s ~ d ~ ~ g
~n ~ t
a a
t l
n-a –t -u –r -e`s g –r –a –c -e s l.
Of that oak tree falls, I may soon be dead.
I stared in disbelief at my cousin Zed.
Why do you have this weird feeling of dread?
He shrugged his shoulders, eating mom’s shortbread.
Sometimes Zed gets weird thoughts into his head.
Why can’t he keep them to himself instead?
Oak tree limb gave me the nod today
When the winds get strong, we may have to pay
Tree is solid, not made of clay
That warning should be heeded said my brother Clay
strands of silver green
Spanish moss draping from trees
swaying in the breeze
The fox was the first one to see the potential of the oak tree
He dug his tunnel, so he would be warm in the winter
His place was cozy; he was away from the elements
It was everything he wanted it to be and more.
Bear had no idea fox had chosen this tree.
He dug down into the earth and made a niche for himself.
Right past the fox’s hole, without seeing it.
In January he would be comfortable in this hibernation hole.
And he was.
The little girl wanted her lamb to have an evening companion
She dug a hole under the same tree, where they could commune.
She read books to her pet, and they felt safe and warm.
Comfortable, and happy with this sleeping nook.
Four animals, sharing the same tree.
Most of them unaware of the others.
an old oak tree stands
has seen many years and felt
the wrath of seasons
The dogs were line up to pee
On what was a special oak tree
Frigid, but waited in line
All thoughts had crossed their mind
Peeing on the tree made them feel glee
I heard your cries late at night.
I felt your pain through my veins.
I was there to greet you rain or shine.
I have been there since you were a lad,
I watched as you and your siblings played and laughed.
In the wind you could hear me sing,
Through the rain you could watch me grow.
I know all the secrets that you keep.
Even though no one asked me to play,
I played in my own kind of way.
On that hot summers day,
I watched as your first kiss carried you away.
I was in the pictures that you took for graduation.
Times go by and the years pass,
My strength has dwindled
My foundation is weak
And my destiny looks bleak.
I overheard something the other day,
How could you get rid of me after all these years?
There are a hundred reasons for your decision, I know!
But who will I watch play and grow?
Whose secrets will I keep now?
Everything comes to an end; it is part of God’s grander plan.
I just hope no one forgets
About the oak tree that once lived.
Beneath the ancient oak tree's shade,
Where wildflowers bloom and rivers wade,
A lover waits, in quiet glade,
For his dear lass, in sunlight bathed.
The lark sings high in azure skies,
Its song of love, pure and wise,
Echoes the lover's heartfelt sighs,
As he dreams of love's sweet prize.
"O stay, sweet sun, in your golden cart,
And delay the coming of the dark,
For in this moment, my beating heart,
Finds peace in love's radiant spark.
The rustling leaves whisper her name,
The babbling brook does the same,
In every facet of nature's frame,
I see her face, I feel love's flame.
And here she comes, as day meets night,
Her smile outshines the evening light,
In her presence, everything's right,
Our love as deep as the starry night.
So here we vow, 'neath the moon's soft glow,
By the whispering winds that gently blow,
In nature's grand theatre, our love will grow,
On life's stage, as the seasons flow."
Green broccoli hills,
Swaying daffodils.
A tall tree of oak,
Hedged by hawthore just like a cloak.
The sparkling canal with a colourful barge,
How do you steer something so long and so large.
There's a wispy smoke trail, floating away in the sky,
With a million leaves gently blowing by.
The afternoon goes to evening, and the light begins to wane,
Then tomorrow I'll watch the scene again from behind my window pane.
A gnarled lone oak tree
grew in the middle of voluminous nowhere,
amidst vast stretches of citron corm fields,
a by-product of an old man’s weird whim.
It proved quite a memorable playground,
For when I was small it was pure delight.
Oh how I loved to climb up
towards an azure sky
feeling for sturdy branches,
imbibing the smell of fresh-grown leaves.
At times I would listen to the wayward wind,
as it moaned in isolation
amidst lush green branches.
Yet when storms struck
I shied away as the winds howled
and thunder rumbled around the top twigs
of my old oak tree.
The last time I was there
I was not alone.
Handsome was tagging along.
He was not interested in the old oak tree
That's when I began to hate him.
And just to prove my point
a sudden change of weather
and heavy rain fell hard.
We ran to the car but the doors stuck.
To shelter under the tree was dangerous.
Lightening zigzagged above.
The place became cursed.
Finally Handsome opened the car
and we sped away.
I never met Handsome nor visited the oak again.
Oak tree works her natural magic
Doing her utmost best to spread joy
Attempting to keep peace in the forest
Oozing goodness through her root system
The woods feel oak tree’s compassion and concern
Gleaning her unconditional love from their roots
Intertangled and aware, they begin to feel beloved
Oak tree’s powerful message has permeated their souls.
A stream flows by the ancient oak, a steadfast soul remains,
A heart of the forest, a living log, a cover that still sustains.
The redwood of old growth, a verdant menagerie,
Simple in its English name, yet rich in its legacy.
My lowly view,
Navigating slippery slopes, salamanders in their hue.
They dart in and out of holes, in the clay they seek Refuge,oid debris, their world they won't subdue.
The forest boasts of many kinds, each with its unique feature,
The young maintain their heritage, with the plantation as their teacher.
Expecting watchful eyes, some wear their feelings on their face,
Their composure reveals their thoughts, their feelings they can't erase.
In nature's design, many depend on the old oak's shape,
Each creature with a purpose, none existing out of place.
Some salamanders are short, thick-headed and round,
Living and dying inside the wooden cavity they've found.
Others, with huge heads, delve deeper inside,
Breathing in the oak's heritage, rooted and never denied.
And as she watches from afar, she can't denie that those large
Head's can't get inside of what she feels inside.
The tree house was massive; it held a village of gnomes.
Had a plethora of projects, apartments, huts and homes.
The faeries soon joined them and named it Faerie Town.
Who do they think they are? Asked a gnome in an azure gown.
The trolls were excited about the tree, and the next to move in.
They brought a juiciness to the village that seemed like a sin.
This mystical oak was joyful, the most excited I’d ever seen.
Why not? It held the largest fey village in the forest of green.
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