The trees sing their near silent song
As the voice of the wind does blow
The sight traversing generations
Creeks in their bows.
They stand and worship God
While watching busy people pass by
What profound philosophy might one gain
To observe many generations but remain still?
Be still and know that I AM GOD.
The forests understand such commands
Do we?
Their hands work not
But they remain well fed
Their faith unwavering even in drought
Drops of the heavens fall in time
Strike one and it will still provide shade
Remove it and carve it
Then a table and chairs are yours
A noble creation of beauty
Whose green does color the earth
Watching, waiting, growing, praising
1-28-12
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