by Kelly Fest
On the old, knotted tree.
Wind's breath gently blows
The yellowed leaves free.
Older than the yard
In which it grows,
It has seen through the years
All that comes and that goes,
Yielding amber cracked loads
Each faithful year,
Making Thanksgiving pies
And even some beer.
The children who've climbed
Its branches through time
Have all come and passed,
But this tree keeps its mind
On its branches and leaves
Spreading glory each spring.
Forever now, forever more,
This tree it will sing.