Long dead,
it sheds its limbs
atop the knoll

where generations
of women bent to
grind granite

for acorn meal.
No longer shade,
a bony spire

for our pair
of crows to make
feather-quivering love

balanced in the light,
has finally succumbed
to gravity. Perch gone

we hope and trust
they’ll stay on
another season.


3 responses to “THE LIVE OAK

  1. Nice poem for a long-lost piece of Nature. It adds character to the scene, so lets hope it Does hang in there!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The great thing about dead trees is that they rot and replenish the soil. And they give to all manner of animals.


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