At first glance, the ancient oak seems overburdened
Its limbs stretch up to the sky and down to the earth
Some boughs even resting on the ground 
Like an octopus's tentacles, they stand poised
As if ready to lumber across an ocean floor

The gnarled trunk resembles a short, squat tower
Wide enough for an adventurous hobbit to walk inside and 
Ascend a staircase to the third floor, where 
He or she can step directly onto a sturdy tree branch 
Then curl up in soft green moss for an afternoon of reading 

The oak's thick canopy is festooned with dark green leaves
Cardinals, blue jays, and red-bellied woodpeckers compete in its branches
Squirrels race up and down, stowing acorns in its hollows
When the wind blows, the limbs shudder and shake
As if dancing to the sound of a far-off calliope 

If this behemeth could uproot and lumber along
It would sway from side to side like a Titanosaur
So huge, its only thoroughfare an open meadow 
Loud and noisy, this herbivore could never sneak up
Even when tip-toeing through soft grass 

A closer reflection of this titan’s asymmetry
Reveals my misapprehension of its bowed-down posture 
This ancient bulwark stands deeply rooted, patient and proud
Protective of all who scamper along its boughs, and
Happy to have comfort-seekers nestle in its cozy crooks