Doing a bit of gardening, which brought this one back into my mind. Hope you like it. Fiddled about with it for ages and only mentioned the word'fairy'once!
The Oak
We stood a little, then walked bye,
Heads rose up to see the sky,
And in a glimpse, warm shafts of light,
Streamed through the oak trees of great height.
Tall and strong, who would believe,
From tiny acorns grew these trees?
Ancient tales they can reveal,
Of battles, wars, and men in steel.
Gnarled, old branches laden down,
Autumn leaves, in gold and brown;
Twisted fingers beckon me,
With rustling, whispers from this tree.
Lean your back against the trunk,
Think about the hooded monk,
Who meditated for a while,
As he walked his leafy mile.
Myths and legends, stories told
Of Robin Hood, in days of old;
And fairy homes have always been,
Where these ancient trees are seen.
A solid mass of warmth and life
Has suffered from much toil and strife;
And when it’s strength is sapped and low,
Boughs may break, but new shoots grow.
Along our paths of places new,
Our guardian, towers, to watch us go;
Mystical moonbeams offer hope
And bless our lonely friend, dear Oak.
Now at last, we praise this tree
That teaches lost simplicity;
Courageous strength, majestic style,
To guide us through our weary mile.
C)Sept.2010
