The Humble Tree
The gust of wind is ever so slight
But it lifts the seed on wings of air
And it is borne upon the breeze in flight.
Amid the gusts and flurries
The rain pours down and the seed is carried
to soft fingers of the earth, unhurried.
Nestling snugly in the earth
the seed slips deeper down,
washed by the rain into the earth.
Later a green shoot emerges
stretching further, upward and outward
Growing taller by the day.
Till one day, one distant day
a tree appears; birds alight on its branches,
Insects crawl, nests are made.
Days pass, weeks and months.
Rain falls, snow and sleet, the sun warms.
Years pass, decades come and go.
A thousand birds have lived in these branches;
Blackbird, thrush and crow
Then a man comes by
And with a wail of the chain saw
The tree comes crashing down from on high
Dust and debris float upon the air
Except for the man and his saw, who watch without a care
Still, all is not lost
For the spirit of the tree lingers still
In every seed that flies aloft
So nurture every tree you see
Hug one if you feel so inclined
But don’t ignore the humble tree.