An Oak Stands Alone in the Winter Field
A single oak tree stands in a field so bare,
Its branches stripped of leaves, standing tall and fair.
The winter winds do whistle, chill and raw,
But still it holds its ground, this tree so worn.
The sky is gray and somber, the earth below
Is frosty white, a blanket soft and slow.
The oak tree’s shadow stretches far and wide,
A lone sentinel, steadfast, undivided.
Its trunk so strong, its roots so deep and wide,
This oak tree stands with grace, its presence dignified.
It’s seen the seasons come and go with ease,
And still it stands, its strength a lasting peace.
So let the winds of winter blow and rave,
This oak tree stands, a symbol of the brave.
It stands in solitude, yet not alone,
For it is rooted deep in earth and stone.
And when the spring arrives, its leaves will grow,
Its branches reaching up, their shadow to bestow.
The cycle of life will continue, unafraid,
And this oak tree will stand, a steadfast aide.
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