OAK GROVE



I have had to spend some time in hospital and my mind wanders to the outdoors. This is one of my favourite trees, I will visit as soon as I am able. 


As with the NHS, I am grateful for the care of the Spanish public health system, also under pressure of cuts and privatisation. We must never take public health care for granted. It is there at our hour of need. 


This short poem wrote itself. 


OAK GROVE

Scramble over terraces
pocked with ash stone
plucked from terracotta
by knarled, ancient hands,
mossed with sage velvet,
wrinkled in lichen
etched chamomile gold.

Scratched by wild bramble,
barbs claiming denim,
entrapping ankles,
spiked wire wool bundles
guarding tumbled walls,
protecting the entrance
to the Grove within.

Pass opened boundary to
stand, still, in silence,
seek assent to proceed.
Honcho Oak beckons me,
crunch leaf and acorn,
lay hand on cragged trunk,
lean, nurtured, at Oak’s feet.




© 2018 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved. 








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