I have written several times in this blog about the magnificent trees that surround my house. From the deck looking north from the back of my house, I see a pond perhaps a hundred feet in diameter encircled by the most splendiferous trees I have ever seen—dozens of them, all at least twice as tall as my split level house. They are of endless variety with leaves of all shapes and sizes and shades of green. Their glory brings to mind a poem I knew as a child. It’s worth quoting in its entirety:


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.

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