TREES

I think that I shall never see

A poem as lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree the 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.

When I was growing up, Dad and Mom had so many little bits of wisdom, poetry, and other thoughts around the house. This little poem was framed and hung on the wall. As I look back now, I realize these are the things that have shaped my life. Mom loved poetry, especially Emily Dickinson, and shared that love with us kids. I was fortunate to "inherit" these special gifts.