So much a symbol,
Its life in nature
Often blurred,
The bark and branches,
Leaves and roots
Recede, surrendering
To its renowned as a noble tree.

 

Sacred to all who see it,
The basics of its history overwhelms,
Causing awe and speechless wonder.
The magnificent, ancient tree,
Sadly bent at last,
Unable to stand against the storm.

Three hundred years
Of rings record times of
Growth and plenty,
Draught and saving showers,
Whispering dew and silent breezes.

All gone.

The farm will continue.
The farmer will mow and plow.
Yet,
Never the same
Without the signature presence.

Gone.

The Chestnut Oak.

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
June 23,2018