Be confident, like an old oak. Storm shaken, weather beaten, yet still firmly standing still. It stops me each time I see it in the forest with its looks of majesty and might. It commands my respect at its rooted site. It is an old oak who has survived hundred and hundred of years. Which gives my imagination an immediate runaround: what is it this old oak has witnessed in its past?
poem written by Karoliina Urso