Tall And Graceful O Mighty Oak
O’ naked oak in the cold winter’s morn, how mighty you look,
even in the watery Winter sunlight.
How something so grand could flourish from the smallest acorn falling from another,
it almost beggars belief.
You flatter the least knowledgeable botanist, as every one feels they know you.
“I think that’s an oak tree” I often hear them say.
Many a story was told down below at the base of the old `door’.
If only you could talk, how many stories would be told…?
A tree of legends and a wood carvers dream…
You are truly the king of the forest, you just stand there, year upon year.
Barely moving, you totally dominate the land…yet in a very grand and graceful way.
When bare of leaf, your branches almost suggest pure symmetry, giving you a dome like appearance.
Whilst carrying the fresh falls of snow, you give a fantastic off season glow…
When the west wind comes and your heavy arm like branches shake off the powder,
what seems like a pure rant is merely you dusting yourself down.
I can almost hear you pray for that warm spring like day, when your buds explode
and cover you once more in that wonderful sea of green.