I am large, solid.
Quercus. Astonishing really, I am a little quirky.
My wood is hard, strong.
I am resistant to attack by parasites, so I am so infinitely useful.
Easily recognisable, I stand out of the crowd.
I am a symbol of endurance.
Infinite complexity has shaped my years of enduring.
My roots dig deep into the earth,
searching, gathering further complexity and aiding in my growth.
I hardly need watering. I can stand on my own.
And yet,
you wouldn't choose an oak to adorn your garden.
You would choose something more delicate,
a birch maybe, or a flower that will die the first time temperatures soar.
At the end of the day,
strength and endurance are not what people want in their gardens.
They want a waif like, weak tree they have to nurture, invest in, take infinite care of.
I stand, I wait.
I burn with the same intensity when flames lick my limbs,
I break along the same lines as other woods.
My leaves rage in the storm the same as other trees.
I just reliably stand the morning after.
I don't want to be a fragile flower,
or a birch tree that dies in the Australian climate.
But I do want to adorn a special garden.
I wait, and endure, as is customary for me.
Another season, another year.
