Tree

Slowly and surely grows the mighty oak
Unless, of course, the ferns can shade it out,
Or steal its water and obliquely choke
The grand tree's roots off of the waterspout.
Do not forget that even redwoods may
When they are little, be outshaded by
A shrub that grows before it in the day
And fail to find its energy, and die.
So do not think that underbrush is weak
Or that potential is assured to be;
Be certain of yourself, forever seek
To make potential real, and constantly
Refuse to rest on laurels not yet gained
Lest you should like the young oaktree be drained.