through The Old Oak Tree
Poem By James McLain
A stream flowing through the old oak tree is still alive.
The heart of the forest (wood which has lived to long it is, unexpected obstacle, this living log
and complicated cover which I lowered)
of rich redwood of old green growth
the menagerie where these forests are in English it is simple.
Once of the lower order I climb up to be exchanged.
Decrease slippery many salamanders for example,
going in and out of the mouth of holes in the clay.
Fighting it depends on the rough ligneous wreckage.
Many kinds are compared to the forest
where the plantation and other young person maintain
social structural their heritage and are managed,
at least temporarily.
It is expected some watching while a few others
all over one maintains their feelings, facial composure.
Being natural, the dependence of many more of the same
but different shapes to the feature of the old forest.
Some salamanders are short thick headed and round.
It lived and died inside, the wooden cavity of the oak.
Others with heads to huge were lowered deeper inside.
Before, perhaps, it's empty when full catching breath because
of the heritage which remains there it is there rooted mainly.