shadow

White Oak

The old tree Has just wakened.

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.

of 5 stories this month > Get unlimited stories
You've read 5 of 5 free stories

Only $1 for your first month.

Get unlimited Monitor journalism.