To an Oak

Wind-shook, gnarled tree,
bastion of Earth’s slow breath
and Spring’s sap rising,
you are brave
and I, at best, am brief.
There are no such things
as small deaths. Dreams
die hard; wisdom
is a slow learning.
Having long since flown
the nest, I return at last
to embrace these roots.


3 thoughts on “To an Oak

  1. Mitch,

    For some reason I have lost the ability to ‘like’ comments.
    That is unfortunate, because your comment has made my day.
    The lines you highlighted are the poem’s raison d’être. I value your
    opinion and feel especially rewarded by your response to this poem.

    Thank you,

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