Broken and Hollow
By John Herlihy

An old oak tree still standing,
After centuries of nature’s onslaught,
Gathering ground fully purchased and bought,
Standing stately with two scarred trunks.
Full of wrinkled bark and knotted bumps,

Birds still come, with its friend the swallow,
Although now broken open and carved hollow,
Random lightning the real reason why.
The grand patriarch still alive and well;
The old trunk still solid, no recourse to yell.

As if it still had youthful desire,
As if it still had a vital center,
As if it still had a clear future,
As if it still had a life to live,
As if it still had beauty to give.

Still beating with a warm heart,
Still brave against the cold heart of winter,
Still pushed back by the heart of the wind,
Still listening to the cow bells of summer,
Still awaiting its thick coat of snow in winter

Still treasuring the comfort of birdsong,
Echoing sweet nothings among its limbs.
Still listening to the stir of the bed of grass,
In unison with the murmur of the leaves alas.
Even silence noticed by the absence of sound.

The ancient stump now sprouting green buds,
Forcing their way through the bark with soft heads.
The tired old bard surrounded by an array of shrubs,
Life will have its way, emerging noble and proud,
Long after this battered tree lies down under its shroud.