Strange things croon
‘neath the midnight moon
but the strangest I ever beheld
gave me quite a fright
on the long unending night
after a great Gary Oak had been felled.
It had been in a park
through which I walked alone after dark,
yet was bustling during the day.
The people you’d meet
’round every bend, every street
would greet you, happy and gay.
The tree was never heard
yet captured every word
and absorbed all the energy it felt.
It grew and it thrived,
it lived and it died,
and eventually began to melt.
Yet it’s spirit never died
it lived on and it cried
it yearned for the days of old.
Where people would sing
about positive things
and hearing fun stories be told.
So on a clear starry night
when the energy’s right
and the moon is bright and full
you can capture the cry,
almost like a sigh,
of the tree that wished it could pull
itself back to the light
from the long unending night
and share in the love of the world.