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An Ode To Trees: Seeing Without Believing


tree in wheelbarrow

Much smarter than me

You’d be fool not to see

The tree, so wise and so free.


Never doth moving

Or seemingly breathing

Or seeing or learning or knowing.


Not limited to,

Like me and like you,

To running away through the dew.


A tree must be smart

And acquire the art,

Of survival without certain parts.


Teach me, great plant,

For I surely can’t,

Know what you whisper to miniscule ants.


For I know so little

And though I can fiddle

My knowledge is awfully belittled.


By your easy grace

And by your kind face,

For you’ve never needed to run or to race.


With leaves so divine,

And bark grooved so fine

You know naught of tangent or cosine or sine.


Yet how much more you know,

To survive in deep snow,

To be your true self, and just go with the flow.


I admire you so

From your “head” to your “toe,”

Whose birth occurred hundreds of ages ago.


Though you’ve never read,

Nor have slept in a bed,

And though over half of you’s already dead,


You are more wise

For you see without eyes,

The truth in the ground and the truth in the skies.

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