This Oak
Never rooted in Tibet,
has not watched a whale breach
a November Pacific dusk, or guzzled
bitter beer near Vesuvius. Nor has it
absorbed the warmth of a loved one’s
hip on a frozen morning long after
the embers’ glow has greyed
and the windows blossomed
white. It cannot know the beauty
of disparate instruments playing
in joyous harmony. It will whisper
no incantations, does not smile,
won’t ever feel the anticipation
of a first kiss after a complicated
courtship. The bouquets of Bordeaux
elude it, as do tears or the benefits
of laughter. Why, then, do I envy it so?
“This Oak” was published in Slippery Elm (print only) published by Findlay University in Findlay, Ohio, in spring 2019.
O at the Edges 
Perhaps envy is a reflection of respect for duration, flexibility through stresses – without complaint.
If only I could be so stoic as the live oak.
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It is as you say, Jazz. I likely have more respect for trees than people, which of course might reveal something about me… I admit to not being stoic lately. There’s been much whining.
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Perhaps you envy what appears as a single purpose of the oak. Man is confounded to find his own purpose in a myriad of choices and ever shifting priorities.
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That could be. I don’t know what I don’t know, and my perceptions and ability to perceive have morphed over the years. But I do miss that tree!
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I’m speechless, marveled at the creativity…we envy sometimes, it’s in our DNA…we are humans
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We are humans. That might be the central point to this piece, and to anything else I’ve written. 🙂
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Wonderful words … I read the poem through many times 🙂
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Thanks very much. I’m so pleased that it resonated for you.
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I wouldn’t be so sure about those incantations… (k)
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And trees do make their own music…
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You envy this oak, Robert, for its oakness. On a lighter vein, because you are Okaji!
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So true, Nazir. Perhaps it should be spelled Oakaji!
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An exquisite list of humanity. Glorious poem. You are a profoundly fine poet
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