Song of the Ancient Oak

I am the sentinel on the untried path.
I hear the song of all mankind.
I am the fruit of the barren earth.
Lift my eyes above mere mortal man.

I shed my leaves as tears of sorrow
And stand alone in winter's chill.
My roots run deep in earth and stone.
I hear the whispers of Mother Moon.

I take the poet to my breast
And nourish the spark that burns within.
I sooth the soul that grieves the dark.
Come sit with me at journey's end.

copyright August 15, 2006 Anna Stephens