Trees. Beautiful Trees.

See? No trees...

It's been a busy time for Husby. And by association, me.

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.

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!