The Rising Oak Poem by Heather Z. Hanna
The Rising Oak
The rising oak with it's puzzle cut leaves
Stands tall
And stretches in Summer green
Against the dove gray sky.
The tiny sprinkles fly past the picture oak,
Like comets,
Dotting the window,
Slowly, silently
Muting the vision of this tree
That know nothing of my Heart's love.
(7.25.8 Inner Thoughts)
Friday, July 25, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: summer
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8/28/2026 9:18:17 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
