Under the Oak

Under the oak we met, and played.
When Sun was hot, in shade we stayed.
It cooled the breeze, and branches swayed.
It served us well, and all unpaid...
But now today I look, dismayed.
This gorgeous tree has been betrayed.
Who felt they could, this oak, degrade;
Who's moral code has been mislaid?
Now not much longer will this glade,
With green benificence displayed,
Stand tall and mighty, unafraid.
I want to have those vandals flayed.

So sad. This fine oak stands in our playing field. A young semi-mature tree, I have no idea if it will withstand this barbarism. Or why.

We have few enough trees, nationally as well as in our village, and this one was a fine specimen with room to grow into full maturity, had it been allowed.

I’m quite keen on the last line…

5 responses to “Under the Oak”

  1. What a frightful act of wanton destroyment. So sad for you and the village. We won’t be getting oak trees of that size for many more years given the alterations in climate. I agree with sentiment in your last line.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Tom is messaging you advice, he’s done things to trees professionally.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Nimue, and my thanks to the magnificent Tom, whose message I have.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Horrible 😦 I empathise with your response.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Liking the anger of this in the poems, not that act itself. The bastards.

    Liked by 1 person

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