The ancient oak stood strong
centred in the grove of saplings
her young, from her acorns
once seeds of a union so intense
it is still whispered on the wind.
Weathered bark peeled away
with each passing year leaving
her body, her mighty limbs
torn twigs, shredded leaves falling
before the season said change.
Axes struck sharp and hard
shattering the forest calm while
creatures paused in silent reverence
as The Green Man gathered acorns
sustaining their secret of eternal life.
My contribution to The Gooseberry Garden: Stories from Mythology, Culture and of life