Status Updates From Trees: An Anthology of Writ...

I want to be ephemeral and fleeting, child and flower.

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.

This is going to be my best read of September.

In the gardens, heard by no one,
Trees shining in the moonlight slumber;
Through the depths of their round crowns rustle
The breaths of beautiful dreams.