Oak trees

Lining the road like soldiers in time

standing tall, proud, touching the sky,

trees of fine Oak wave branches as swords

in homage and welcome to me, their Lord.

Soft is the wind that whispers through leaves

the message of love and how we should be

but all we once knew hides in corners of pain

each of us own as part of our gain.

Circles of age ringed silent and grave

speak of a wisdom awarded the brave

for roots of their history reach to the core

and know of the peace beyond heaven’s door.

I’ll pass by again one day when I’m old

no longer a Lord but a poor humble soul

naked and bare in my moment of prayer

next to the crown of my human despair. 

And I will bear fruit in my freedom to be

like a tall Oak in the kingdom of trees

upright and strong right where I belong

in the whispers of love’s immortal song!