Skip to: Content
Skip to: Site Navigation
Skip to: Search


White Oak

By John Robert Quinn / June 6, 1991



The old tree Has just wakened.

Skip to next paragraph

The sun, scarce more

Than a promise, takes

Its time as usual.

Life proceeds

In due course; the tree

Is not worried,

Having managed

For countless years. It's now

Past eight o'clock

On a flawless June morning;

A million leaves have let loose

Their joy without warning.