That Gnarled Old Tree Poem by Eric Cockrell
That Gnarled Old Tree
that gnarled old tree,
you thought was dead,
withstood the winter storms.
bare bent limbs reaching,
against odds to bud,
holding the sky
in a lovers embrace.
home to the sparrow,
the worm, and the squirrel...
shade to the weary,
a constant guide to the lost.
without name, without need,
rooted deep in the earth...
that gnarled old tree...
is me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 4:01:43 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
That’s funny I just wrote something about a tree too. This is probably more optimistic and whimsical though, wonderful.