Solitary Man

Lone scrub oak, among the stones,

No trees for miles, but here you grow;

Among the rolling, broken hills,

Land untamed, devoid of frills.

There's grass around, and flowers, too;

Deep green and gold against the blue.

Rocks hewn, not by a mortal man

But by Creator's omnipotent hand.

Grey clouds conceal the ev'ning sun;

Its daily course, the light has run .

As hours flee you're left to stand,

Lone oak, the solitary man.

This isn't the tree I was thinking of, but close enough.