Mystic Oak Poem

Mystic Oak

Howe Lane, Poringland, Norfolk, Uk

She emerges
through my breath
that hangs like mist
in the November air
with cushions
and a doobie.

We climb the oak
lay on the ledge
inhale and embrace
to watch the sun slump
into dubiety.

© David Street 2020

This about a cold November afternoon when I am standing in a field taking a picture of an oak tree as the sun sets. A young girl was up to me and says lovely tree, I reply yes it is but she has vanished.

David Street