What is More Worthy Than a Tree?

Today I have lost myself among forest of trees,
Each standing alone, though together in tribes,
Strong thick trunks signs of wealth,
Storms and fires endured, wind blowing
Through drought and narrow years,
Roots run deep thirsting in the dark….
Rings of years a history of their scars,
Prosperity disclosed in tallest growth.
Like penetrating preachers,
I honor their righteous loneliness,
Spaces where they do not lose themselves,
Standing stalwart as they reach for Sun.
Never do they run away or hide,
Even when lumberman comes to wound,
Hack and slash into their lives, brings a naked cut—
Reduced in death, they fall to ground.
In all the rustling world, I cannot find
More noble wood, more worthy of our reverence
Than these great holy groves of trees.


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