Like an Oak (Flora) By Bob Mason

My poetry emerges from questions I've been thinking about, struggles I'm engaged in, or some special way in which Divine hope has overtaken me. This poem is titled, "Like an Oak."

What is there like an oak,
    So strong, so enduring, so brimming with life?
Oh, there is nothing like that,
    Drinking from the living stream,
        And scattering that life to all that come near.
In green leaves that emanate coolness and refreshing
    To the shade-seeking traveler or the weary creature of the wood.
In those same leaves turned brown,
    Falling with scarcely a sound,
        Silently fortifying the ground,
            Food for life yet unconceived.
Yes, life streams from that tree,
    In more ways than the eye can see,
        Or the mind imagine to be.
Ask the tired back that leans against the solid trunk,
    Steadied and rested, sapping strength without consuming any,
        Just one of the many
            Depending on that tree.
Look into the soul so richly fed
    As its starkly branching geometry
        In silhouette magnifies the beauty
            Of setting sun or rising moon.
Oh that tree is the very definition of the place it stands,
    And to picture that place without it, well, no one can,
        And yet some hand,
            Has cut it down.
But still it gives life.
    The warming fire that it feeds,
        The trees in the acorns it leaves,
            The memory in the traveler who grieves,
                The faith and hope of what is still to be.
No, there is nothing like that oak.

Bob Mason writes from northern California. All rights reserved © 2012 Click here for content usage information.