- Author: Sharon L. Rico
Published on: January 20, 2017
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.
Comments:
by Steven Goetz
on January 21, 2017 at 8:07 AM
Great poem. I hope that is not an oak tree in the golf course. It looks surrounded in irrigated turf.
by Melissa Sandoval
on January 25, 2017 at 7:28 PM
The tree in your first photo (an oak?) is especially wonderful. It is amazing how complex their branching system is without their leaves. Thank you.
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