Song of Trees

Man might hear

Rustling of leaves

When it is the

Song of Trees

In summer man takes shade beneath her umbrella

In autumn his theft is hidden.

Then man journeys upon her colored palette

But she lays down her leaves as though she bleeds

Yet a gift to the ground as the colors once were, found.

Gifts from the Sun of Righteousness.

Another season passed.

The trees stand stark and bare

An annual ascetic feat

As their branchs plays the winds, a hymn

The witness of mankind is heard in

The Song of Trees.

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