TREES by Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)
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 flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by people like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Schubert Chokecherry and Spruce
trees in Louisiana above and below (photo taken by my son Tyler)
Pine tree in Cold Lake
Ahh, the beauty of trees!