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Mighty Oak
Mighty Oak Mighty Oak, bent with age I come to sit here in your shade. You've guarded this meadow for hundreds of years. Already old before the city was here. I come and I sit and I make myself still And when my thoughts cease It's your voice I can hear. It's felt more than heard Like a low rumbling song. I close my eyes and The visions come: Of newly hatched chicks Housed high in the leaves, Of lovers laying together beneath, Of squirrels hiding acorns in Fall, Of the meadow's grasses Turning brown in the sun. Bright butterfly flashes of color I see High up in the canopy. When once again I open my eyes Breath esccapes me with a sigh. Problems don't seem quite as bad Compared to your immense life-span. So I thank you once again, Old Tree, For sharing a bit of your wisdom With me. |
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