The Old Oak Tree At The Abbey. Poem by Tony Mushrow

The Old Oak Tree At The Abbey.


Ancient oak, sentinel of the Abbey.
How long have been standing there,
You centenarian of wood.
Eternity you must have seen,
Many a leafy dark green Spring,
and deciduous autumn,
have come and gone,
but your oak heart beats on.

Single acorn, born.
Your roots fixed, anchored,
deep, underground.
You’ve made this spot your own,
And tranquillity you’ve found.
How much love has there been,
Under your catkin.

How many seasons,
Have you endured,
You conduit of time,
the snow, the wind, the rain.
The sun incessant in the summer,
Lighting up your Oak domain.
But do you fear the lightning,
cracking,
in your sod,
Striking,
Splitting,
the chance,
of being touched
by the fingertip of God.



The End.