My Tree

img_5773Trees    by JOYCE KILMER


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.

img_5821I thank God every day for this little piece of paradise we call home. One of the things that I drew me to this place was the trees – especially the towering cottonwood tree in the back yard. No matter how hot it might be, if you sat under this tree and listened to the breeze rattle the leaves, you felt cooler.

We put a bench under it so when I work in the garden I can there and cool off.

img_5453We have lost a few limbs since we moved here and Olin was concerned that it might come down on the house someday so yesterday the cottonwood tree got a major haircut.

img_5850A small branch here . . .

img_6031Another branch there . . .

And before you know it . . .

img_6404There is a big pile of branches on the ground . . .

img_6443And my majestic cottonwood tree looks like this!

I am hoping that it will sprout new growth,

but if it doesn’t Olin can build me a tree fort!

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