The Mighty Oaks

Hello Friends and by the way, if I haven't said thank you for logging in from time to time, I do so now.

What a glorious day this has been in the east. I live in the mid-Hudson valley approximately midway between New York City and Albany, New York. The fall this year was spectacular. I say, "was" since most of it is now past peek and replacing it is the season of the "drab"; a place between colorful fall and white winter.

Being still and observing is one of my choice things to do and in doing so, I invariably muse and this time the result is...

Oak Sonnet
© 2008 Rolland G. Smith

Old rusted Oaks hold firm their foliage
While other trees have shed to silhouette!
Are leafy hoards, now dead, a sacrilege?
Or does the Oak hold leaves as amulet?
Soon Winter’s wind unlocks and leaves release
But still, we’ll not, know why, this is the way
For Oak’s have always had a staying peace
That knowledge cannot change or castaway.
The Druids saw their Oaks as sacred trees
And to them prayed for guidance and support,
But that meant not they must release their leaves
To be in fall the way most trees abort.
The mighty Oaks and man are much the same.
When ready we release what we became.