I went to the store with my daughter and there amoung rows of establishments chained together in a pretty row, was one tree. It was smack in the middle of progress. How nice of them to allow it to exist!
One lonely oak
Branches tangled and reaching
Moonlit sun-baked storm-tossed
And snow boughed
Knurled
Roots spread
Beyond the breath of it
Tucked snuggly
Beneath
Centuries old earth
Warmed
Within a blanket of velvety moss
Arched branches
Curved
twisted
entwined
Cradling the newborn sparrows
Within Its tender
embrace
Dappled
In kaleidoscope movements
Of dancing shade
And sun light
Until evening’s moon
Casts slivers
Of silvery beams
Through the darkened spaces
One lonely oak
Stands stronger
With each new
Spring awakening
Eagerly
Drinking in Cool crystal Droplets
Upon tender buds
And thirsty roots
Through yet
Another of summer’s
Majestic turning
Into autumn’s glory of
scarlet And golden hues beneath sapphire skies
Then
Once again to humbly bow
Beneath a coat of diamond-like ice
And glistening, white snow
Two centuries
Plus twenty
Held as witness
To a battle weary brow
The lover’s passionate embrace
The slave’s desperate journey—
To freedom
Protected, beneath its private shadows
Today
It stands enduring still
Amidst an ever-changing world and man
Whose thoughts do not linger
On yesterdays….
One lonely oak
A silent willing ear to vows
And oaths uttered
(When such promises had honor)
Many tears shed
Yearnings and dreams whispered
Within it’s quiet
Safekeeping
Once
The oak was small
Against a massive
Open plain
Today towering
Above a tiny patch of soil
Perfectly measured
Permitted to stay
As a solitary alien
Among a maze of steel cement and glass
Of a living progress
Ever wanting—more
Pursuing expanding,
Constantly pressing
Pushing, shoving
Chomping away
Greedily Grabbing
Gobbling
Towards the very hem
Of it’s tiny patch
A plaque placed
A bench set
Facing its magnificent array
---It is empty
Perhaps someday
Someone may sit
And marvel
At this curious symbol---Of what was
What its importance was
In a long ago time
But---not---NOW
Man has no time to spare
To contemplate
To ponder useless things
There is a need
To build more--- build MORE
Tomorrow
Is pressing against today
There is so much
To plan
To find
More spaces
More—places
The corn field, perhaps…
The swamp can be filled….
Today
The old oak is content
To stand
In the towering shadow
Of the future
Yet its life
Is uncertain
Its very survival
Is dependant
Upon
Man’s interpretation
Of his needs---
His wants
But
For now—
It continues
To live and stand
Raising its branches to meet the sun
Above every obstacle
Dependable steadfast and
MIGHTY!
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
