Two sapling oaks, grow side by side, in the soft silt savanna swamp
The sun awoke, and shadows hide, their roots begin to stomp
The oaks move the earth, and stretch the sky, as they yearn towards each other’s touch
With their growing girth, and branches high,
Purposefully extend, to feel each other’s clutch
They grow, slow, and methodically
Taking their time, placing each leaf in the sun.
They reach, each other hydrologically
Sharing the wealth beneath the ground as one.
As decades turn into centuries, an exhaustive passing of time
The mighty oaks are living free, in the middle of their prime
Yet, still they yearn, for one another touch
To have their bristle branches brush in the warm wind as such
Though… a century more may need to pass.
For the old oak trees to touch
Patiently waiting in the soft silt savanna grass
The long time doesn’t seem so much
Inspired by the old oak trees in New Orleans. This poem tells a story of patience.
The rhyme scheme is designed to slow you down, breaking slight rhythm to remind to read slowly.
