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Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Simply Beautiful


Trees
By Joyce Kilmer

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 fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

 

 


Trees are magnificent things. The neighborhood where I live has many big, tall trees and all kinds of greenery, but on a recent trip to an old part of Dallas, I was dumbstruck by all the old giants that soared over the residential homes that were nestled amongst them. I kicked my puny oak tree when I got home. Not really. It's a beautiful, big oak tree.

I love trees in all seasons, even after winter rains and winds have stripped them of all their foliage. As the world becomes darker and uglier, the beauty in little, everyday things becomes more appealing to me.


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