The Oak

All of them are silent friends
In unchallenged supremacy
Stands the oak
Its massive strength
Its grandeur
The tree of life for me

An Oak
A lover of the eternal light
A great force to be reckoned with
Behold the druids right

To perform their rites
Their sanctuary
Beneath tbeir sacred shade
With sessile leaves
Yes stalkless
On peduncles are laid

Acorns individual stalks
But then again we see
Leaves on stalks
And acorns not
The other type of tree

Both oaks both strapping
Solid woods
QUercus rich fed green to brown
Hanging on through winters bite
Until the next Spring
Curled and rustic
Displaces them with its new light

Pendulous catkins complete with scales
Transforms into the cup
We see
Holding the acorn in its grasp
The flowers appear in April
Simultaneously

By October it be ripe and good
As moisture then transcends
And taking flight from wind
It flies
Its flightful journey sends

The nut the future groves
Hurled near and far
The gardeners of nature
The wild souls who will star

By taking them and throwing them
Or burying them at ease
Or the schoolboy who may
Carry them away
And drop them, trees

Flourish being carried
To other places
Where
Fate may bring them luck
May wing them
Flying through the air

Faeries use the acorn cups
As goblets for the dew
The wine upon the faery feast
With senses good and true
The forests swine suggests
A bitter treat for one and all
Tis said the flesh may suffer
But as a vegan i can call

Not on the flesh of animals
Neither dead or lost
Preferring to enjoy their lives
Whatever be that cost
And now we know how many creatures
Frequenting the bold tree
Creating galls and apples
And spangles earnestly

Nuts and berries the mistletoe
The cause of all of these
Diverted sap a rising
A chaotic light filled tease
Insects come to lay their eggs
And they will fly away
The apples and the oak galls formed
A multincoloured sway

Perhaps a thousand insects
Are supported by the tree
The cockchafer is one of them
And varietal moths they be
Perhaps the Purple Emperor
A butterfly supreme
Pretty rare these days alas
Shades of red and cream

May bugs once were common
But mists of ugly spray
Scarabs once from ancient times
And the purple emperor they
Seemingly were faeries
As subtle as could be
That also liked the willow scrub
And the minerals for free

The roots delve ever deeper
Into the underworld
The tree of Thor
What is the door
To the kingdom Where is hurled
Galatian tribes held councils
Oak milk caps too are found
In the great oaks shadow
In the underground

Myccorrhizals gifted beings
Providing nutrients rich
Increase water intake
And dutifully pitch
Defence against bacteria
And alien fungi who
May come to cause the great oak damage
As some are prone to do,

Like the armillaria whose honey fronds
May be
A threat of doom and gloom
For what we know as our oak tree

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