I’m exhausted. It’s been an exhausting week. And looking at my previous posts, I seem to lack the talent of brevity. So here’s a poem on one of my favorite things. I’m sure I’ll blog about them later but this does a pretty good job of saying what I feel, without saying it… you know, me saying it.
“Trees” 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 make by fools like me.
But only God can make a tree.