The Oak

I am the oak that leans above The river, dancing slow In my great robes of dark and light, Whose leaves are tangled in the air. In the swaying shadows I stand tall.

I witness the storm hunters, When lightning shakes the night, And you, wandering quiet in my shade, Will see the world in a thousand ways.

I hold the tales of ages, The whisper of the winds, The laughter of the waters, And the sighs of the earth, The love of the sun’s warmth, And the kiss of the moon’s glow,
My branches sheltering life, Around my roots, a thousand stories unfold.

Here beneath my canopy, It is the peace of the forest, And I’ll stand steadfastly, still, In the arms of patience and grace,
The oak will remain.

• Robert Penn Warren