The Great Oak Tree

The Great Oak Tree There is a great and sprawling oak That stands beside an old stone mill The two are nestled comfortably On Pennsylvania’s greenest hill No one knows which one came first The mill, or tree, or maybe both Perhaps their secrets of the past Are kept within a mutual oath The oak stands tall above the mill With spreading arms now gnarled with age The mill turned slightly toward the oak As though in thought, the two engage The tree was witness to a millstone Grinding up the golden grains Its wooden wheel that turned in waters From the creek that still remains A bustling place where horse and wagon Pulled up weekly for their goods The flour to make the daily loaf Ground in a mill in country woods The two survived when lightening spears Pierced the oak and grist mill door Severing branches from the trunk Where scars now mark the hand of Thor The mill survived though threatening days  In raging fire it once was charred In blizzard, storm and summer fire The mill and oak have both been scarred Only mill and oak tree know Which one was first upon the scene Their secrets shadowed in the walls And in the leaves of summer green All I know is when I sit here On the grass between the two This quaint and lovely mellowed pair Seem like two friends I always knew Who’s to say which one came first They have for centuries been a pair On Pennsylvania’s greenest hill They stand in peaceful silence there Written February 23rd, 2002 © on Feb 22 2002 10:57 PM PST   0 • 10