The Mighty Oak

Blistering heat scorches my silhouette as I cower behind the mighty oak.
His limbs frantically churn outward to absorb the blast.
Martyrdom is his destiny,
I am the cause.

The birds howl amongst themselves-
Marveling at his bravery.
Ephemeral Eulogies bound to become,
No possible way the oak could stand against the mighty sun.

Yet, against all the odds- the oak stands true.
Glaring back at the sun- and sky, so blue.
Blades of grass sway in disbelief.
Worms wriggle to the surface- weary of the commotion.

The oak stands mighty- need no words he say.
No eulogies shall be crafted for him this day-

Jacob Leonard

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