COLE ALLEN
Old Oak Tree
The smell of goat weed on a cool October morning
Shotguns and flashlights, my dad and me
He’d lead the way, to clear the spider webs
On down to the corps land north of Johnson Creek
Along the main trail, was an old oak tree
It stood like a tower through my 12 year old eyes
The roots forked just right, to make a couple of seats
And we’d sit together and watch the woods come alive
And the peace of God, that passes all understanding
Engulfs the morning, as the mockingbirds sing
You can feel His face, shining down upon us
Sitting in His presence, ‘neath the old oak tree
The woods are always changing, shaped by the storms
Each season would bring about something new
Underbrush would grow, where other trees had fallen
But the old oak tree remained steadfast and true
Its roots ran deep, to weather the drought
It stood tall and strong against the wind
It provided food and shelter for those that it held dear
I was proud to call that old tree my friend
And the peace of God, that passes all understanding
Engulfs the morning, as the mockingbirds sing
You can feel His face, shining down upon us
Sitting in His presence, ‘neath the old oak tree
My dad left this world way too soon
When I heard the news, I thought of that tree
The time we spent there, and the time we’d miss
And the mornings he’d share with my son and me.
So after the service, I took his ashes
And spread them out in his old root seat
And each October, I’m going to take my son
And we’ll all sit together, ‘neath the old oak tree
And the peace of God, that passes all understanding
Engulfs the morning, as the mockingbirds sing
You can feel his face, shining down upon us
Sitting in his presence, ‘neath the old oak tree
I can feel his presence, ‘neath the old oak tree