"Bubbling up in our own good time-- online."
Groundwaters Publishing, LLC
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Volume 1 Issue 2
Page 4
Page 4
Thin, almost wiry, hardly straight at all,
It twists and turns and fights for light, this tree that stands so tall.
From a small acorn it did grow in these woods that once were wild,
An accident of nature that created a wayward, struggling child.
I came upon it several years ago during a rainy, morning walk.
I stopped and stared in admiration and wished that it could talk.
Its gnarled, knotty gray bark was scratched and chipped and old.
The footprints of cats, squirrels and time had taken their collective toll.
To me it was symbol: resilient, persistent, fighting to stay alive.
Born into a hostile environment with other oaks and firs, it struggled to survive.
The Jeans Road oak worked hard to catch the sun’s warm rays and knew the fight was
fierce.
The tree stretched and twisted for the light it wished to pierce.
Today the woods are no longer wild, and busy traffic noisily assaults the quiet of the day.
Where once other oaks stood, houses now stand amid power lines, and children run and
play.
I stopped in deep reflection, back in time so far away, but the tug of Candy’s leash,
a nuzzle at my knee,
Returned me to the present, her wagging, white-tipped tail said, “give attention just to me.”
Other walkers with dogs in tow and the school bus rushing by ignore or pay little heed.
But I watch intently this Jeans Road oak with hope it survives and fills my need.
The best of all worlds is a tree-lined street or road,
A message that someone lives who values nature’s code.
And I hope they will be kindly folk,
Who will treasure my Jeans Road oak.
It twists and turns and fights for light, this tree that stands so tall.
From a small acorn it did grow in these woods that once were wild,
An accident of nature that created a wayward, struggling child.
I came upon it several years ago during a rainy, morning walk.
I stopped and stared in admiration and wished that it could talk.
Its gnarled, knotty gray bark was scratched and chipped and old.
The footprints of cats, squirrels and time had taken their collective toll.
To me it was symbol: resilient, persistent, fighting to stay alive.
Born into a hostile environment with other oaks and firs, it struggled to survive.
The Jeans Road oak worked hard to catch the sun’s warm rays and knew the fight was
fierce.
The tree stretched and twisted for the light it wished to pierce.
Today the woods are no longer wild, and busy traffic noisily assaults the quiet of the day.
Where once other oaks stood, houses now stand amid power lines, and children run and
play.
I stopped in deep reflection, back in time so far away, but the tug of Candy’s leash,
a nuzzle at my knee,
Returned me to the present, her wagging, white-tipped tail said, “give attention just to me.”
Other walkers with dogs in tow and the school bus rushing by ignore or pay little heed.
But I watch intently this Jeans Road oak with hope it survives and fills my need.
The best of all worlds is a tree-lined street or road,
A message that someone lives who values nature’s code.
And I hope they will be kindly folk,
Who will treasure my Jeans Road oak.
| The Jeans Road Oak By Janet Romanek |