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The aged oak stood proud and tall
among the younger pines;
With branches strong it sheltered all
as they grew within time.

Through Summer's heat to Winter's frost
its form steadfast and true;
From Spring's first kiss to Autumn's dawn
it shed life as it grew.

The lilacs bloomed within its shade
with brilliant violet hue.
The pansies bright as leaves turned green
with morning's early dew.

But then the chill of Winter's grasp
clawed selfishly one night;
It spied the oak atop the hill
and howled with grim delight.

The wind did bite; the snow it blew
and froze its form within;
The oak it struggled hard and long
against cruel Nature's sin.

For years it cared not for itself
but for the pines it loved;
It sheltered with its branches strong
from heights far up above.

But with the chill of Winter's breath
the elder oak did glean,
That even those so mighty
need support on which to lean.

And with this knowledge pure and bright
the oak took measured pride,
And drew it's strength from deep within
with pines on either side.

They blocked the sting of Winter's teeth
with boughs of evergreen;
The wind it shrieked yet louder still
as pines began to sing.

Then suddenly as whence it came
the grasp of Winter ceased,
and there atop the hill of pines
the oak, at last, found peace.