Oaks
steeping barriers
fringing with
blue poppies intermixing with cornflowers
rooted on the outer edge
of this peachy valley
beyond insulated wonderment of easy-living
rigid mountains await
things not seen
I want to go
Those two Oak trees
steady along the
barren grass
everything that they offer
their leaflets shading
my feeble mind
once foolish
and now too
mature to stay
Will we still have unity?
even if we never return
to frolic in our heartland
I fear when we
arrive from
our lives beyond
childhood
that the Oaks will be
there
perishing
meeting nature’s demise
in the bleak
wrenching sun
I will want to atone
compensate
the choices
I made
But will find
that without these Oaks
there is no use
perpetuating this
vessel of bleached wildflowers
and
faded contentment
remembrance will recall me
as I’m grieving
the sound of their hearts
beating within
enclosed bark
saying
go, little sapling
this is what we want for you
Anna Fannon
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