Fallen Oaks

The carcasses of fallen oaks
Lay in heaps among the new spring grasses
Broken under the weight of their own density
Some taken before their time in the winter storms
Others, at a ripe old, collapse on their dry and aging frames
But beauty grows from these fallen mossy behemoths
And saplings sprout beneath their arms
And their grown children look down on them from above
Mourning with massive arms outstretched
Knowing that one day they too will return to the earth from which they came