The Mighty Oak (Poem)

There was a mighty oak
beloved by some townsfolk.
It stood in the center
of the field they enter.

The grandeur of its' height
grew each year towards the light.
And its' branches gave shade
to the great town parade...

held in the town each year.
Picnic tables are near-
in the shade of the tree
where people have peach tea.

The summer sun shines through
the branches wet with dew.
One strong branch holds a tire-
made swing to fly higher.

In the top-most branches,
birds sit on their haunches
and sing a lovely tune
when it is opportune.

Gray clouds transform the sky
when a storm rolls nearby.
There's a sound of rumble-
as the storm clouds mumble.

Rain drops drench the oak tree,
whose roots giggle with glee.
The puddles are its' cup-
and it will drink it up.

The temperature cools down.
The leaves frown and turn brown.
Autumn comes to visit.
The oak lost its' outfit...

Red blushing leaves lay there-
ashamed when people stare.
It faces winter nude,
with no shivers or food.

Snow falls to lend a robe,
to give the oak some hope.
People wrap it with lights
that glisten in the nights.

The snow is on display
'til the robe melts away.
Crocus flowers pop up
giving the tree a heads-up.

The cold was quite numbing,
but springtime is coming.
The oak begins to weave
an outfit on Spring's Eve.

Green leaves begin to form.
Each spring, this is the norm.
Happy with its' new cloak,
stands the strong, mighty oak.

The oak's been through much strife.
But it stands strong in life-
to teach us a lesson
if we will but listen...

Life is full of trials.
And some stress stockpiles-
like snow and rainfall,
but the tree remained tall.

Through all of the testing,
the tree waits for blessing.
It clings to hope always,
despite winter's delays.

And it keeps on reaching-
as the leaves are pleading
for rain from the Maker,
Who is the Caretaker.

Each year, it grows higher
towards its' whole desire.
It lets the seasons go-
accepting change to grow.

Does the tall oak complain?
Worry for loss or gain?
It stands sturdy and strong
despite what comes along.

It's not easily phased,
in shock, alarmed, or dazed.
Through thick and thin and cold,
through heat and drought, 'til old...

the mighty oak unmoved
will pass the test approved.
And so, when our storms come,
or to hard times succumb,

remember the oak froze
without comfort of clothes.
We should be grateful for
the clothing in the drawer,

the warm security
of fabric so pretty.
Don't forget your blessings.
Be glad for little things.

No matter what your ranks,
it's still good to give thanks.
In all that happens,
beware worry's trappings.

Recall the mighty oak
when storms of life provoke
you to fear, or to fret.
This lesson don't forget.

***Author's Note: Here, I would like to say thank you @pennsif for recently suggesting that I write a poem about a mighty oak tree! :-)