Beneath Great Oak
Beneath the great oaks,
Leaves falling and swaying
From dark boughs,
Raining over God’s church like water.
This house of healing,
Like Adam’s garden beneath the tree,
Loses shape in the ephemeral green.
This beautiful place of worship
Is a painful memory
Of what was and can never be
Only ghostly imitation remains
Within the church,
Flayed in another year’s colours.
Comments about this poem (Beneath Great Oak by Matthew Thomas Donovan )
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