The Hollow Oak Tree

Timber and limb waning
An empty bench in its shade
Disorder and malady condemned
Decay uncovered for all to see

A vessel of life and dwelling
Arrayed with cracks and critters
Yet a sickness grows in place of green
What could or should will be debris

Lacking…

Barren…

Void…

And empty

Roots unearthed and trembling
Nothing of that death remains
A chasm tearing through the dirt
Marking the grave of a bowing tree

Darkness ceased and trunk burning
Indelible scars from axe and ash
Waiting for the hollow to become whole
Aching to be resurrected and free