writing

Old Oak Tree

Graceful limbs stretch out over the grass field beside the lake.

A tapestry of bark and green cover each one as it stretches to the sky.

Shadows cast to the ground below, providing shade and a cool place to rest.

The leaves flutter and shimmy in the breeze lightly blowing in.

The trunk has recovered from Irma’s force, twisted and split,

held together by strapping which it is now growing over.

The branches still droop under the weight of the final summer rains,

and soon, the leaves will fall, covering the drive again as the seasons change.

It graces the lawn, playing host to cardinals, jays, and wrens.

That oak still stands tall, surviving what Mother Nature has thrown at it.

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