Its branches swoop both high and low,
Encasing it in a leafy defence,
But inside it’s delightfully hollow,
And leaves you feeling mysteriously tense.
The bark has a soft but cryptic feel,
Loose and springy at human touch,
Overgrown with a moss of ocean-deep teal,
You’ll end up slipping if you climb too much.
Through its ivy, its bark and bottle-green mane,
Pure life seems to radiate from the core,
Its leaves give protection from the rain,
But in an unexplainable feeling it can do so much more.
Once the bushy door has closed,
It’s like a whole other world,
Its curvy trunk appears perfectly posed,
And amongst its leaves you feel safely curled.
All pain and anger, worry and fear,
All evaporate from the moment you’re there,
No matter what time of the year,
Whether all leaves or none, you can feel it care.
No one ever feels anything of contempt,
Because no one can argue once in the tree,
Inspirational, wise words flow without attempt,
And we all listen, helplessly.
Not just to each other, but to Nature likewise,
The look of concentration stays on our faces,
Listen to her and she will delete her disguise,
And give aid through climb, through fall, to all races.