OLD MAN OAK

by 
Gwen Austin

Copyright 1999

It stood--
before horse chestnuts matured,
before white pinecones burst forth,
before the stonewall was laid,
before Old Man's cabin
 was cobbled together.

The stalwart oak endured
hurricanes,
ice storms,
thunderous tumult.

Its thickly-ridged bark
shielded it from pesky insects.
Squirrels scurried along its gnarled limb highways
and sheltered within its heart.

  Old Man Oak served
 as blue jays' balcony,
crows' lookout,
      hunting owl's perch,
 robins' choir loft at break of day,
varied thrush's podium for leading evening vespers.

Beanie-capped acorns
 issued forth In spring,
fell to earth in fall
as future offspring
or as food for forest fellows.

Old Man Oak's burnished leather leaves
skipped with fall breezes,
then blanketed spring-dreaming seeds

Its sparse, stout limbs stretched out in benediction
over lichened stonewall,
thrusting white pine seedlings,
struggling low-bush blueberries, 
and blood-hued bayberries.

One winter's freak lightning storm
blazed its mark to the heart
of Old Man Oak.

The following summer
Old Man's chainsaw
released the blackened shell
from earth's bonds
and laid it to rest as firewood---
 heat and light-giving cremation.

When winter returned,
a stroke felled Old Man.

One clear New England fall day,
Old Man's ashes were cast
 on a sighing breeze
to drift gently
 upon Old Man Oak's hollowed ring.

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