The Singing Oak in City Park
Oh brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, let’s go down
To the place where weary bones are allowed rest
There is time enough for life to unfold, time enough to toil
Oh growing, oh grown
Have we felt too hard for the winter?
Look around
Wrack your bones for the sound
Do you know what it means?
It was theirs and it is ours
And it will be theirs again
Oh big, be made small
In the shade, in the sound
It is ours, if only for now
–Madeline Laborde