Today, I learned on
Facebook that the Whiteleaved Oak Tree, near Eastnor Castle in Herefordshire, has been destroyed in a fire. The tree is important to druids and is visited by
people from all over the world. It caught fire on Sunday night and could not be
saved by firefighters. The cause of the fire is unknown, but is suspected to be due to people’s actions. The tree was believed
to be more than 500 years old. I put some news clippings about the tree and the fire at the end.
About a tree / The Whiteleaved Oak
The Whiteleaved Oak rules this space alone,
Arms upstretched
to welcome the sun,
Grounded in this still, breathing earth.
Red roots reaching to the mystical down,
This tree listens to the wide world waking.
Its rings speak of five centuries past.
In the fiercest gale this tree will not bow.
Blackbirds perch to sing to the rain
As magpies hop and bounce and crawk.
This oak has seen streams of strangers
Who read and write in its visitors’ book,
Attracted here from curiosity and awe.
But sometimes is it better not to shine?
Attracting the hoards, it brought its doom
Through the careless disregard of humans.
In the cloak of dark they left their mark.
This oak crouches now, a ghost of its past,
But we remember how it ruled so majestic,
Seeming to whisper the secrets of faery times.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 8, 2020
About a tree / The Whiteleaved Oak
The Whiteleaved Oak rules this space alone,
Grounded in this still, breathing earth.
Red roots reaching to the mystical down,
This tree listens to the wide world waking.
Its rings speak of five centuries past.
In the fiercest gale this tree will not bow.
Blackbirds perch to sing to the rain
As magpies hop and bounce and crawk.
This oak has seen streams of strangers
Who read and write in its visitors’ book,
Attracted here from curiosity and awe.
But sometimes is it better not to shine?
Attracting the hoards, it brought its doom
Through the careless disregard of humans.
In the cloak of dark they left their mark.
Fire shook
its branches to the ground,
Splayed its
limbs and ravaged its bark.This oak crouches now, a ghost of its past,
But we remember how it ruled so majestic,
Seeming to whisper the secrets of faery times.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 8, 2020
News clippings:
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