There is an oak outside my door
That stretches up ten stories more
There is no way that I can see
The sidewalk to the left of me.
This ancient tree is truly old
Devoid of nicks and is not bald
Her branches spread this way and that
She wears them like a giant hat .
And when it rains the ground is dry
Because her leaves are piled so high
Oft do I think, about those trees
That gently sway into the breeze
I’d like to know what I can do
To be that free and live long too !
Claire V. Bogdanos 