The tree that grows gracefully -
Brown trunk, straight, solid
With verdant, jagged leaves -
Lightly tosses in the breeze
Of this warm May jour.
Through my window, beyond cars
Choking the air, grabbing at the green
From chutes overhead, I watch
The trees shimmer in the sun.
The greed of paper faces soon takes
My mind and I look down at a tray of
Keys with letters and another face of light.
I glance up at the tall giant and smile
At the secret of Life we both share.
Some men out passed the rows of
Cars, passed a silver grate of separation,
Take plows and dig into a mound of earth.
The trees stand tall, a tender show of
A miracle abounding - as do I.
And then they come, not as surveyers of
Beauty and life, they simply do as they must.
My heart betrays as I see their task.
Though I know the necessity, my heart breaks
As the testimony breaks simply. The giant
Of green, my co-companion in glory, falls -
Quickly, silently, through my triple-paned glass.
How could they? How could they not
See the green leaves, catching the sun
And glowing bright? Could they see
Them tremble at the break,
Falling in a breathless heap? Or,
Is this just my heart I see?
This sight of splendor and craftsmanship,
No more a tall display of a Maker's care,
Is this the tree or me I see?
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