A poem

Can I tell you about some of my favourite trees?
Feel the need to share how they impact me
and I worry there might be something wrong with you
if you don’t have a favourite oak or two
I’ll start with the best one, the tallest oak in town
stands like a sentry, guarding over our home
the ‘twins’ are the next I want to show you
where one trunk grew greedy and split into two
and I’m greedy for oaks, I can’t get enough
even the sad hollow one that refuses to give up
there are a few oaks that look like octopi
some boughs scrape the ground while some reach for sky
round the corner squats the short fat angry one
and there is a dead one covered in rhododendron
the oldest are dying, but they’ll still outlive me
on them every day a buzzard perches proudly
further down the one I name ‘classic’ oak tree
it’s cliched ‘tree shape’ stands in a field of green
across the lane, the oaks stand tall and hold hands
creating a canopy of green over this land
but let’s not forget the ash, willow, hazel or beech
the sycamore, hawthorn, alder or holly trees
so many trees, do you know any of their names?
doesn’t passing without a smile, fill you with shame?
it’s a worry to me, something I can’t understand
people who don’t long to touch trees with their hand
touch them, hug them, climb them and breathe
what is wrong with you, if you don’t have a favourite tree?