The Old Oak Tree

In the heart of the meadow stands the old oak, With bristled bark and stories bespoke, Its gnarled branches reach for the sky, With whispers of ages gone floating by.

Beneath its vast shade, life’s gatherings hum, In laughter and love, the weary find calm, Its roots firmly planted, a testament strong, In the cycles of nature where all souls belong.

So stand still a moment, let the breeze weave, Through the leaves that unfurl, in wise reprieve, For the old oak tells tales, both tender and grand, Of the wisdom of nature, forever will stand.

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• E A McKinney