Geoffrey Brock
The Fallen Oak
Where shade was, now the dead oak lies,
no longer vying with the winds.
Folks say: Now I see -- how tall it was!
Here and there spring nests hang down
from the fallen oak's fallen crown.
Folks say: Now I see -- how good it was!
Everyone praising, everyone cutting.
At dusk, they take their heavy bundles.
In the air, a cry... a blackcap's cry...
it seeks a nest it will not find.
QuickMuse recommends: