The Oak Trees

Sharp, billowing, icy winds,
Slam against an aged oak tree.
Its branches sway,
Its tree trunk cracks.
Knowing it will die,
It stands against the wind.

Like a wounded creature,
It continues to protect its nestlings.
More wounds appear.
It falls down in the snow.

The other oak trees left standing,
See that their companion died.
Grasping up those tiny birds,
Adding more protection.
Gently placing each little bird,
Safely within.

Coming closer and closer,
And fiercer and fiercer,
The wind blows all down.
Amongst the beauty of the snow,
Lies several guardians,
Inside them all,
A nestling within.

by dania santiago

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