The Mighty Oak

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The Mighty Oak

The mighty oak had lived in the forest for over one hundred years
And now if it was possible, it would shed quite human tears
It survived storms that tried to tear it from end to end
But now was facing something it could not comprehend
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A massive fire had threatened when it was young and green
The heat had burned off many leaves, and left its limbs picked clean
It had once provided a home where an eagle made a nest
And felt the tickle of children climbing its wooded vest
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It witnessed covered wagons roll by, pulled by oxen, mules, and men
Several limbs were lost while young, for wagons that needed a mend
People in cars had drove by, not noticing the beautiful tree
Almost as if they didn’t care, or did not want to see
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Scars were on its trunk from someone’s small sharp knife
A heart, initials, and an arrow, expressing their love for life
Squirrels seemingly defied death, as they leaped from branch to branch
And not too long in its memory, nearby had been built a ranch
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A dirt road now ran near the oak, but still not too near
The mighty oak had grown stout, survived those many years
It had felt the gentle touch, of lovers embracing its girth
And knew at that moment, what life was really worth
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A storm now threatened the oak, one it couldn’t understand
Was the need of man to gain more space, to devastate the land
Humans had decided that the mighty oak should go
And in its place they’d build a new road, going to and fro
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As the moment of truth neared, while saws were being staged
Other humans knew of the plan, and a battle they did wage
To save the mighty oak from a seemingly shameful end
They refused to allow the saws to cut one single limb
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After weeks of vigilance, the environmentalists eventually won
Many of them slept near the oak till the battle was finally done
The road was diverted, now curved ‘round the mighty tree
It was left in its prime, for everyone to see
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What man did not know in all their wisdom so far flung
That though to them the oak was old, it was really young
If age is considered in tree years, one hundred is still a teen
Let a tree live one thousand years, you’ll see just what I mean
~~~~~~~~~~

Jim Dorrell
3/30/07