Oak

How Would You Know?

Here I stand at the roadside.

The asphalt tries to choke my roots, but they grow deep.

Colorful flowers adorn my base.

Once, a child walked over to me and put his hands on my rough bark.

His mother pulled him away from the street.

I carry too many scars on my trunk.

I think the warmth of the child's touch healed one of these wounds.

I stretch my branches.

Each year, I stretch them a bit further, forming this crown.

I am a home, a life-giver to those around me.

I fill your body with rich air.

I stand firm in the wind and the cold.

It may seem like I don't feel it, the wind and the cold.

But I do.

It may seem like I am built to defy what life throws at me and yet, I still struggle.

But how would you know?

You drive this road every day, and not once have you stopped to gaze upon me.