I have no time this morning to write anything of any significance, so I'll just leave this here. I have always wondered about the stories trees would tell us if they could talk.
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 was one of my favourite poems as a child. I had to memorize it for school. I loved it and still do.