We do love trees. So much I once wrote a poem called “The Fellowship of Trees”:
Feel the treeness
when trees treely stretch
branches leafily toward a lonely sky,
anchored by a woody society of treeish support;
these treeful neighbors that make a sunly day shady
and know the treely ways
of goodly tree stuff.
Of all the species on this pale blue dot we call earth, trees are the most wonderful. I pass a tree and I thank them for all they do. And they do it in silence. In spring, they splatter the landscape with green. They tell us that it’s time for the world to be reborn. And they give the birds a home. I often speculate that the birds are singing their praises for the trees. Come summer the trees offer shade. And then there is autumn and the lovely fruit they feed us with. Then the leaves fall, dancing their way to the earth from which the trees were born.
trees, grounded in earth
perfection stretching upward
a welcoming sky