A Resting Place

A Resting Place

An old oak branch caught my eye,
Twisted gnarl curled in a knot.
Fell on the ground partially rotted,
A piece of life – nearly forgotten.
Home to small lives hidden inside,
Beatles and worms, their tunneling hides.
Top pieces bleached by sun and air
Back side stained from resting earth.
Just a part of a natural scene
All things pass, part of this life’s scheme.

In twenty years, should I return,
And walk this forest, field, and dale.
The special branch will no longer be
Except in spirit on the trail with me.

-Clarence Holm

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.