Saturday, September 17, 2011
This poem is not mine it was written by a friend of my Grandmother's I inherited many of her books and she being a poet herself had many books of poetry which are included in the collection . I thought I'd post it as Autumn is often the season in which I am called to focus & use Oak .
Here in our province the scrub oak is very common variety .
Scrub Oak by Thomas Sanders
I saw an oak once less than three feet high,
A prairie oak, full grown.It grew in sand
With others of its kind, all taller but
None tall. I've known oaks in kindlier land
Attain a height and girth and a supply
Of Dignity; but these could barely jut
Their jagged arms (they had no trunks ) above
The ground. Eking a hard existence, there
They stood, defiant, grim, but still alive.
You'd wonder why these oaks were growing where
They couldn't grow. Some kindly, pleasant grove
Would suit them better, where they'd live and thrive
And prosper as they ought.
Life has a way
Of doing we don't expect her to ;
I don't know why these oak trees should have grown
There where they did in that unlikely view,
Or why they persisted in their stubborn sway
Against what odds, unlovely and alone.
here is a photo of our boys blessing a little scrub oak which found its way into the spruce forest , a rarity to find an oak in this place .