Weep not for the mighty oak
brought down by wind and rain,
and the weathering of a long, full life
now ended.
The soul of the mighty oak though, lives on
New trees grow from the rotting stump,
and fauna thrives in the slain carcass,
that lies beside.

Weep instead for the sweet chestnut,
or the cherry, barely some twenty years.
Culled in half a day and cleared
To make way for another new road,
or municiple car park.
Twenty years it has grown,
and reached towards the sky
Only to be swept away at public convenience.

The mighty oak of the Lion’s Mouth
lives on after a slow, decaying death.
Hundreds of years after a tiny sappling
pushed its way out of the woodland floor
It still gives back and will do so still
for hundreds and hundreds of years
after the ancient, mighty oak fell.

Weep not for the mighty oak
that has seen generations of much changed lives.
Weep instead for the sweet chestnut
who was just living through its first.

Written at The Lion’s Mouth, Felbrigg, Norfolk, 26 May 2017, 1.25pm.

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