101 years full of good sap,
The wise oak stands tall.
Above the glare of tiny trees,
Soaking in the sun.
Her roots are deep in Eden’s soil,
Watered not discouraged by the rain.
Her leaves change with the seasons,
But her beauty she does retain.
Winter is near,
And maybe soon she’ll wither,
But not before I walk to the forest,
To hear her say, “come hither.”
Then I’ll kneel by her feet,
And listen long,
Let her tell me stories,
Grow wings from her song.
She pays no attention to criticism,
Let’s no other keep her from growth,
She stands tall and strong even in old age,
Never says no to sunlight.
She might fade with winter,
But I know,
Come springtime,
The wise oak stands tall.
Above the glare of tiny trees,
Soaking in the sun.
Her roots are deep in Eden’s soil,
Watered not discouraged by the rain.
Her leaves change with the seasons,
But her beauty she does retain.
Winter is near,
And maybe soon she’ll wither,
But not before I walk to the forest,
To hear her say, “come hither.”
Then I’ll kneel by her feet,
And listen long,
Let her tell me stories,
Grow wings from her song.
She pays no attention to criticism,
Let’s no other keep her from growth,
She stands tall and strong even in old age,
Never says no to sunlight.
She might fade with winter,
But I know,
Come springtime,
She’ll shine again.
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