JuPo 6 - long poem

An Oak’s Lament

Though my bark is solid it hides
the hollowness of my limbs.
Boring beetles have burrowed
beneath my crusted skin,
consumed tender pulp within;
and squirrels make nests
inside my chest.

I’ve hosted thirteen litters,
watched them grow and move on,
delighted in the colorful scraps
they’ve decorated me with; withstood
being chewed from the inside out
when food was scarce.

But they’ve moved into my neighbor’s;
his is a cozier house that doesn’t creak
and sway as much.

I’ve begun to fear the weighted shove
of wind against my brittle bulk,
worry I might snap beneath the weight
of wet snow. Even my children
compete with me, their vigorous roots
deplete the soil that cools my feet.

I will feed them when I fall.
My barren shell will host life
until it collapses with decay.
I will return to the soil of my birth.

copyright 2006 by cookala