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| See? No trees... |
He retired last summer and is now busier than ever with new and greater projects.
One of which requires (a lot of) travel.
As travelling companion of choice, this means I get to go as well.
Presently, in a combination of family gatherings and work, we are in beautiful, green Montana.
Today, travelling from Bozeman to Choteau, we passed some of the most beautiful trees I have ever seen.
And I finally get to the topic of today's Poetry Monday: Trees.
On the ranch, the only naturally-occurring tree was found in the field aptly known as: The Tree Field. Meaning THE TREE field.
We practically worshiped that tree.
From these humble origins came my love of all things tall and green and growing.
In a bit of a departure, instead of crafting my own 'Tree' poem, I'm going to give you my favourite.
Today, travelling from Bozeman to Choteau, we passed some of the most beautiful trees I have ever seen.
And I finally get to the topic of today's Poetry Monday: Trees.
On the ranch, the only naturally-occurring tree was found in the field aptly known as: The Tree Field. Meaning THE TREE field.
We practically worshiped that tree.
From these humble origins came my love of all things tall and green and growing.
In a bit of a departure, instead of crafting my own 'Tree' poem, I'm going to give you my favourite.
Trees.
By Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Daddy also had a favourite 'Tree' poem.
And this is the second (poem-that-I-didn't-write) that I shall share with you today.
Partly because we are travelling, partly because I always loved it.
And partly because . . . tired.
I think the original was by Odgen Nash, but I credit Daddy for teaching it to me.
I know you've probably heard it already, but here goes.
Daddy's Trees
I think that I shall never see
A Billboard lovely as a tree.
Indeed, unless some billboards fall,
I'll never see a tree at all!
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Daddy also had a favourite 'Tree' poem.
And this is the second (poem-that-I-didn't-write) that I shall share with you today.
Partly because we are travelling, partly because I always loved it.
And partly because . . . tired.
I think the original was by Odgen Nash, but I credit Daddy for teaching it to me.
I know you've probably heard it already, but here goes.
Daddy's Trees
I think that I shall never see
A Billboard lovely as a tree.
Indeed, unless some billboards fall,
I'll never see a tree at all!
As I said on Delores post. Tree huggers of the world unite.
ReplyDeleteI don't think I could live in a places where I couldn't see trees every day.
ReplyDelete