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

I love trees. Oftentimes, I liken people to them. If our roots of faith run deep we will remain strong through all adversity.

One of my favorite spots by the lake. I can linger here for hours and stare, smell and feel at the majesty of trees surrounding the area.

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