Friday, August 27, 2021
KING OF THE FOREST - A POEM BY A U.S. SOLDIER STATIONED IN GERMANY, 1967-70
Wrote this in 1971, after returning from Germany. While there, a soldier stationed near Bad Aibling, Germany, for 3 years, I had taken a walk across a field which I could see from my barracks. This IS what I remembered and set down in a poem after I returned to the U.S.
King Of The Forest
Freed of the weight of a long Winter's snow,
Fields rolled beneath the Spring Sun.
Stretching green arms to the blue sky above
Inviting the world to have fun.
A young man awoke and rose from his bed
Hearing the sweet call of Spring.
In the rustle of leaves being teased by the wind,
And the cry of a bird on the wing.
His heart and his feet made a wonderful team
One leading, two following lightly.
And so, he arrived at a field by a stream,
'Neath the sun, a green jewel glowing brightly.
Nearby, at the edge of the green, glowing field
Stood old pines doing ominous duty,
Wary of light, the field, and the flowers
They cloistered in dark, solemn beauty.
At their feet lay a carpet of needles and cones
Woven slowly on the loom of the years.
The young man entered the shade and the silence,
Feeling stirrings of primitive fears.
It was dark and as quiet as a small country chapel,
Or cathedral in the busiest city,
"Do cathedrals have squirrels?", he thought to himself,
And chuckled for being so witty.
His eyes picked out of the darkness ahead
A column of light shining free,
And, as he approached he began to recall,
That men had once knelt before trees.
There in the spot where the sunlight shown down
In the midst of the guardian pines
Stood the ruler, the king, an agéd old oak,
Ignoring man's notions of time.
It stood with a wisdom and dignity earned,
With the bearing a god might assume.
Around it the pines stood back in respect...
To approach would have been to presume.
The boy raised his hand to touch the old oak,
But, stopped and just stood in the quiet.
Perhaps he prayed, as the ancients had done
If asked, I am sure he'd deny it.
He's returned to his home, since he saw the old oak,
There are miles, and an ocean, between,
But, sometimes in Spring, with the Sun on his face,
He will smile, and remember the king.
Labels: Bad Aibling, fields, forest, Gemany, oak tree, pine tree, poem, poetry, soldier
