The grand old oak upon the hill,
Leaves an imprint on the sun,
Teething with life as it shelters,
A mother and her son,

The season changes,
As life begins to leave,
Abandoned by the summers past,
The oak cries it Autumn leaves,

Frozen in the winter,
A passing woodpecker knocks,
The oak sleeping deeply,
As it awaits. The changing of the clocks,

Arrival of the warmer air.
The old oak begins to thaw,
The life returns to its tired arms
As Spring returns once more,

Children's laughter,
Like a chorus through its leaves,
The oak stands proudly upon the hill,
Swaying in the Summers breeze,