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A leafy canopy gleams with dew, As shafts of sunlight filter through, Twisted old oak entwined with the new, Lost in a spring-time sea of blue. -Written 01/06/04
I like this poem, oak wood seems to be a special place, in my home country, the Oak Wood is a name of a hotel.
It's a beautiful poem but I feel like I'm the resident squirrel talking about his tree