The Oak
Where whispers wind and leaves bespokeAnd contemplates the mighty oak
Her heart so stretched into the sky
While arid days have left her dry
She lives that rain her roots will soak
What legacy will time invoke
That acorns sprout where crown has broke
Perhaps the child will hope supply
Where whispers wind
The farmer sees in she a yoke
And meat would hang within her smoke
Her crook a nest for lone magpie
So each can draw some use to vie
From fractured dream the tree awoke
Where whispers wind
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