Dusty Poetry #62

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There Stands An Oak

There stands an oak
Its roots are deep and wide
Tall and proud in the potter’s field
A creek runs at its side

There stands an oak
Its branches reach the sky
A home for birds to come and go
As clouds pass quiet by

There stands an oak
Its leaves move in the breeze
They take the sun and give the shade
To the young man weeping on his knees

There stands an oak
Its leaves begin to fall
The sun is cold and distant now
Autumn will take them all

There stands an oak
With branches bare but one
It holds a rope that holds a man
Blood stained coins reflect the sun

There stands an oak
Beside a creek now almost dry
Though its life soon ebbs away
The clouds refuse to cry