“Poet doesn’t write poetry, poetry writes the poet” –Abhijit Naskar

I hope Mr. Naskar is right in his observation, for in this, my first attempt at poetry, I can surely use all the help poetry has to offer. I have decided to make a change in this blog, and try my hand at writing some poems. Poems about normal everyday things. This first one is about an old oak tree that stands on our front lawn. I looked out the window one day and the oak tree caught my attention strongly enough that I decided to write this little poem about it.

The Old Oak Tree

It’s afternoon and I’m sitting here wondering what to do.
My eyes go to the window and look straight through.
Their gaze reaches out to the sky and the sights they see
Stops short of the clouds as it rests upon a majestic oak tree.

That old oak has been with us for many a telling years
It has probably watched through laughter and many joyful tears.
As my gaze steadies upon it I wonder and begin to think,
How far into the earth did its roots have to sink?

It’s deep-rooted, there’s no doubt about that at all
For it’s massive and only deep roots could stop its fall
The trunk is huge and it reaches way up so high
From my position it seems to blend right into the sky

Its boughs are spread open and they reach so wide
How many units of measure I wonder, is it from side to side?
It’s a cloudy and dreary winter day but the old oak seems not to care
Even though it has reversed human habits to spend the winter bare.

Earlier when animals and humans were bundling up to face the cold
The old oak was in a different mode and rejected the common mold.
Instead of following the crowd it turned the idea around
And as the season grew deep into fall its cloak fluttered to the ground.

During the humid summer months its leaves manifest thick and green
Adding to Its beauty and forming a most stately image to be seen.
With its full coat of leaves it stands high and wide swaying in the breeze.
Gently welcoming myriads of birds with their sweet caroling keys.

As the winter grows deeper I’m amazed by the endurance of the old oak so bold
and how it can stand unbothered by the winter wind so frosty and cold.
It stands there swaying in the winter breeze but much less so.
For all of its leaves, every last one, it has let go.

There are no leaves to catch the wind, no leaves to keep it warm.
Yet it stands straight and tall as it absorbs the winter’s storm.
But without its summer covering it looks quite forlorn.
And I wonder how something so majestic could manifest from a tiny acorn.

That acorn was filled to the brim with information, you see
For within its tiny shell it held all the blueprints for this mighty oak tree.
When the time was right it fell to the ground hoping to find a soft spot
Where it could bury itself, not too deep, nor too shallow, causing it to rot.

Obviously it found such a spot and buried itself just right
And settled comfortably in as fall gave way to a long winter’s night.
Frost surrounded it and snow covered it as winter howled above
But they could not extinguish it for its mission was filled with love.

When the spring sun had reached a certain position in the sky
The acorn felt the warmth and its vibrations, which can never lie,
Sent a response to the sun’s love by rising to a higher rate
Causing the fulfillment of its plans to begin, and its shell to deteriorate.

That tiny acorn no more than one millionth the size of the tree
Then sent a slender and tender seedling to the surface for all to see.
Over the years that tiny seedling has gathered invisible energy from spirit
And the mighty oak my eyes are resting upon, is the result of the acorn’s merit.

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“Love is your safety. Fear does not exist. Identify with love, and you are safe. Identify with love, and you are home. Identify with love, and find your Self.” –ACIM

“Veganism is believing that an animal’s life is worth more than a sandwich. That’s it! That’s how simple it is.” –The Spiritual Vegan

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