The magical oak tree

I cannot sleep so through the aperture I look, The crescent shining a marvellous bright The scenery as if straight out of a book, The sound of the crickets in the dead of the night, A stoic sound surrounding my house its calmness has disturbed my placidity For i am now on the look for its whereabouts My instincts guide me, a silent curiosity Feeling its presence, I extend my hand Brushing against the bark, a silent demand This tree, a titan at a hundred and fifty feet grand humming and hawing, Am I a friend or am I a foe? Its judgmental eyes gazing right into my soul It seems to like me, for I am now allowed to see This magical domain, belongs to this magical oak tree The foal, the fawn, the big and the small All sleep in comfort, beside this indestructible wall Upon the talk of heaven, we look up to the azure However at this moment I realize, this tree Is exactly what we are looking for For its perfection makes it seem like a martinet Its sinewy branches holding those emerald green fronds The moon's rays forming the beanstalks silhouette I am now sitting with my back against my new crony And in the dark I wonder, how I came here alone But no longer do I feel lonely.