The Oak Waits
(For The Wind)
written by: Frank Prem
the season
is on the turn
I can see it is now
spring
the old oak clings
to winter
ignores
a bitter wind
new blossoms
open strong
but they
are nothing
if not frail
the old oak tree
knows none of that
the chill wind moans
and wails
I saw a baby die
tonight
something fell —
explosive —
from the sky
I wonder
why I watch
each night . . .
again . . .
again
just to witness
one more lie
the oak tree
is still in winter
waits patient
for the call
an arm upraised
an arm
outstretched
ready for the weight
to fall
what good
is celebration . . .
if the soil is soaked
in blood
hopes
are trampled underfoot
slurried
to red-brown mud
the wheel will turn
it must roll round
god knows I hope
it’s soon
I can’t stand
to see
can’t stand
to hear
the sounds
around me
(boom boom boom)
oh how I hope . . .
hope
it will be soon
and the old oak tree
is waiting now
holding the brightness
of the year
at bay
waiting for a rope
and a worthy throat
for the wind
to swing
and sway
for the old tree
is a judgement —
the last —
and the wind will cry
again
today
- The Oak Waits - September 9, 2025
- Life and Death #65 - November 23, 2022
- Life and Death #13 - August 3, 2022
