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The Oak
(to the accompaniment of Handel's "If God be for us")
From tiny
Acorn, it began;
Nourished so blindly
By the Gardner Grand.
Yet, it thrived and streched
To break ground, finally bursting
Through the parched surfaces etched
Where 100 years good, five thirsting
From unrelenting sun making oak wretched
Until seasons changed and rain was fetched.
Much activity occurred around it's spot,
What with squirrels gathering and a tot
That built a treehouse on broken arm
While father worked the family farm.
Such was the oak in little harm.
It survived two hurricanes but,
Alas, one ligtning bolt
Ripped open gut
With megavolt
in dying jolt
That stripped
Layer dripped
in oozing sap�
Depriving cap
Of nourishment
And, so, meant
A silent death
Lacking breath
To vitalize it
So it died bit
By bit until a
Stump in decay
Was it one day.
The last to die, were roots
Which layed beneath the surface grim
Unable to breathe� � � the oak's� � � � � headless boots
Could not continue very� � � � � � � � much� � � � � � � � longer along cliff's rim
Until, they,� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � too,� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � entered dim.
�1999 Robert Tremblay
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