Tree

Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowering breast;

A tree that look at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of Robin’s in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me.
But only God can make a tree.

4 thoughts on “Tree

  1. in truth… a tree does all you said it does
    and God Himself is my witness
    but when I see a tree
    especially a lonely… forlorn… ancient tree
    clinging to the side of a spur off land
    or thirsty… in a wide expanse of desert sand
    air stops… then slowly seeps from my throat
    while the melody of my heart reaches a cresendo

    Liked by 1 person

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