The Oak Trees
by Theodora Goss

The oak trees
clung to the edge of the cliff
or perhaps
the cliff clung
to the oak trees.

They were small, stubby oaks
with the typical lobed
leaves of Quercus robur,
rounded at the tips, and plentiful
as though what the oaks
had not spend in height,
they had invested in foliage.

Each time it rained,
a little more of the cliff
had washed away, leaving
the roots of the oaks
jutting out, like a loosely-woven
basket still holding
what remained of the cliff —
red soil, striated rocks
exposed to the elements.

While the cliff clung
to this rough aerial net,
this set of ancient, gnarled
unreliable hands,
out of fear and love.

(The image is The Rocks by Vincent Van Gogh.)