I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
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...the following is a photo essay of the old Ironwood tree outside our local library. She is such a lovely creature! The pictures speak louder than any words I could write.
For more information on Ironwood trees (also known as American Hornbeam) check out this link: http://plants.usda.gov/factsheet/pdf/fs_caca18.pdf