Dawning mist
~
The mist of the reddish gold sunrise
Is a lingering trail of white wet smoke
As the rose-gold blaze tender, sheer
Meets the old oak tree at dawns early light
~
Its ancient spirits whispers in the mist
Every crinkle, scar, crease and lifeline
Was etched by wind, rain and snow
Throughout the epoch of significant time
~
Withdrawn from the concerns of men
The ancient oak reaches to heaven, setting itself apart
Its lifeline mocks my own evanescent span of life
Oh! how its beauty awakens my heart and soul
