Oak Tree.

Twisted and gnarled meeting tree

the tales that you could tell.



you stand, propped up and iron-fenced.

A plaque to reveal your wisdom

to pilgrims of commute

no stop, no stare.



Oh! Sage witness to injustice,

of rebellion and commotion.

A symbol to emblazon a sweater,

a backpack and a blazer.


Small acorns imbued with your life,

your lore;

never to enclose,

ancestral freedom to defy.


No fence nor hedgerow,

Council or commander to suppress

immortal roots of discontent.

1 Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.