Walking Sunday I saw the leaves of this red oak clinging to their branch. It sent me to a favorite poem, which now in light of my December heart attack, becomes more meaningful to me.
The Red Oak
Among the four seasons' perpetual jokes
Is the winter appearance of overdressed oaks.
Refusing to fall with the sleet and snow
Oak leaves cling, lifelike, through fifty-below
Until they are nudged by the force of the sap
Rising to fashion the oak a spring wrap.
I hope when it's autumn and winter for me
I can look as alive as the overdressed tree
And during the lengthening nights I can cling
To my wits and my heart--the tokens of spring--
Only releasing them into the sod
The moment I'm dressed in the glory of God.
(This poem was written by Jon Hassler for his novel Simon's Night. I think that's the one. I have read most of his novels and like them all. North of Hope is my favorite, perhaps because the main character is a priest.)
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