The Trysting Oak

Trysting Oak, Greencroft Valley 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the centre of the valley I stand firm.
Every purple winding pathway leads to me.
Surrounding my old trunk the people meet
Entranced by smell of sap and ancient mist.

My abundant storming trunk they sigh around,
A strong dark pillar for a wanton weary crowd,
Bright desires all comet streaking through the clouds
And pulsing downward through my ancient earthly roots.

Pushing downward through the wayward sticky soil,
Thick loam with crawling snuffling snarling leaves.
The diligent worm in ardent duty banks and coils.
Clay sits thick, defying water underneath.

Thrusting up my sturdy armature, grand feat
Preponders cloud, embracing wind draws in and breathes.
Absorbing light show dance of sporting sun beams
I hold the moon in her deep nocturnal dreams.

In the centre of the valley I stand firm.
Every purple winding pathway leads to me.
Surrounding my old trunk all people meet
Entranced by smell of sap in ancient tryst.

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