THE OLD TREE

THE OLD TREE

Along a trail we found a tree

Gnarly bent and dried,

A relic of what used to be,

No life was left inside.

And yet it stood, and regally,

As if, that it might say,

Do not grieve, I am not gone,

I’ve simply gone astray.

It was a thing of beauty,

Leafless, thorny, stark;

It reached towards the heavens

Bewitching in the dark,

While buried deep in fallen leaves

A tiny acorn grew,

Descendant of the ancient oak,

With DNA that’s true.

           –Sandra Lee Smith

Updated July 1, 2019

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