THE OLD OAK TREE

I look out my window

And see the oak tree

So strong and unbending

Deep rooted and free.

The winds of Northeaster

That blew in the Fall

Have stolen the beauty

Few leaves left at all!

The snow now has covered

The ground where it stands

Yet branches reach outward

With uplifted hands.

I see a leaf clinging

So cold and alone

Still wanting a reason

For staying so long.

The sun seems to whisper

That soon Spring will come

The warmth will awaken

A new day begun.

The sap is all ready

To flow through the trees

The summer is calling

“Come shade us with leaves!”

--B. Pent