Ode to a Tree

Under the shade
of an old tree,
I find a place,
to rest, and enjoy.
The tree stands tall,
with leaves green as emerald.
It fills the streets
with fresh air.
I climb onto its branches.
It lets me see,
far, far away.
When rain falls,
the tree stands strong
and protects me.
I hear rain,
hitting the leaves
and making a tinkling sound.
I touch its brown trunk.
Its rough skin,
protects it well.
When fall comes,
the leaves become
as red as flames,
making a carpet.
I walk on it.
It makes a crisp sound.
When winter comes, 
its leaves fall down,
I shall not be worried.
They always grow back.