Unequivocal contentedness. 

A trusty oak never fails to satisfy the search

for philosophical soundness within one's soul.

Branches so perfectly placed the seem to

represent a geometric phenomenon.

Bark so richly brown and sturdy you can't

help but run your curious hands over it.

Leaves such a sprightly effervescent brown

you wonder if they're even tangible.

I mus upon the thought of building my house,

here, 

under the speckled shade of my hearty oak tree.

But alas, duty calls, 

and I'm pulled from my reverie.