trees

I THINK that I shall never see

A poem so lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest 

Against the sweet earth's 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." 

{Joyce Kilman, "Trees"}