Waning like an ageing oak
Without its strength or dignity
It’s knurled joints and branches bent
Yet decked all bright and luminous
Fit, indomitable, content to live
Amidst a field of newer shoots
And brighter sparks

Consider me at half its age
bent low and hindered
Knees akimbo ankles sore
A fluttering heart, a slowing mind
Remembering less, regretting more
Feeling young, but only too aware
Of growing old when offspring
Run me ragged

Does Nature favour static souls
Do movers lose their way?
Unsure of where we are or why we’re here
Frantic, spreading wings too far
Taxing aching brains too hard
Supported by a straight-backed frame
Not fit for task

Nature will decide in time
Though sadly not in mine
Our body clock is set it seems
To suit our crass desire
Unlike the oak to live at speed
What price we pay,
who knows?

I like the oak, it’s majesty
Rooted and defined in place and time
It’s self-set task to stay, survive
Whilst highly mobile species flit and fly
amongst its stately tower
It’s web of roots anchored beneath the
Shifting sands of time

June 2020