The roadside oak

The oak that shades the country lane
has stood despite the wear of rain
and wind, and tear of ice and snow,
that blow across the furrowed plain.
The waves of men who came to sow
and, in the fall, returned to mow
sent prayers aloft through leaves on high
and took their sheltered rest below.
For those whose path had gone awry,
the oak stood out against the sky
and gave a guide along the way,
a soothing sign while passing by.
I walked that lane again today
and paused beside my friend to say
my thanks before I go away,
then laughed at watching squirrels play.