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Oct 30
The ancient oak
wears a cloak
of hoary old bark
and scalloped leaves.

She raises high her limbs,
writes silent hymns
that the nested larks
turn to music with ease.

A thousand years
on this blue sphere
has this oak thrived
under countless moons

aloof from the cares
we people may share:
She’s simply alive
to write her secret tunes.
Written by
Jack Groundhog  53/M/Potsdam, Germany
(53/M/Potsdam, Germany)   
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