God planted an oak in my yard
among the cedar and pine.
The tree has grown tall, strong;
its branches reach out.

It has weathered winter's snows
and summer's scorching heat,
yet it never wavers.
It stands hardy, green.

Autumn will come,
and the oak will blaze
bright gold, red, orange--
a fire against the sky.

Then the leaves will shrivel
and tumble in the wind,
leaving bare limbs
to fight winter's cold.
I need not worry
for spring will bring
warm showers, new growth.

For now, I am content
to sit in the tree's shade
and feel the gentle breeze.
But, whatever the season,
I will still love that oak.
~Author Sue~

I wrote this poem to a special friend.
I entered it in a contest and won a prize.
Copyright 1999