The Old Oak, In Memory of Robert Frost - with audio

audio link

The old oak stands stretching tall
Full of sweet dripping sap
That smells so like mash
Who's stain of sticky resin stays

As I walk away with turned back
And feel the weight of sunbeams
Coming through his fingers
Striking out my shadow

A ponderous wonderment of strength
In his robust limbs and branches
Casting down cool patches of shade
Baring and bending, filtering light

In that shelter the birds alight
Fluttering along the creaking bough
Their songs a shower of blessings
Flowing down the ripply, wrinkled trunk

Grasping twisted roots find their way
Ants tickling the belly of amber red leaves
That crackle and swish with life, while
From the Old Oak's base flows a legacy

Of warmth to the spirit, and
Refreshment to the soul of creatures
A Spring of words traveling ever onward,
Curling, drifting and working through each eddy

Telling truths and secrets - this one to be sure,
Even as the woolly bed of winter comes
To bring the Old Oak blanketed sleep...
There is Another, Who smiles to see him wake.