Nature Poems

Water Scenes Water The Nut Tree
The Forest Trees Holly
A Mountain Stream The Maple Pine
Ocean Moods The Oak Bamboo
The Wind Flowering Trees The Redwoods
Clouds Fruit Trees Precious Trees
Along a Forest Path The Willow  

Water Scenes

I like to watch the ocean as the waves come in dashing against the rocks. The sea is churning. It throws itself against the black rocks, leaping high above the water. Its force is awesome. This is the power of the water. If the storm increases and the wind whips up, it may be deafening. You cannot help but admire the ocean when it’s raging. It is a spectacular drama come alive.


Sunlight shining into a creek, lighting up the rocks below. The streambed looks light in the sun. It is light above and light below, continuous light. It is happy.


A fall leaf floating by in a brook. Sometimes it is on top of the water and sometimes dips underneath as it floats by. It goes on into the distance. It moves with the motion of the water.


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The Forest

Walking under the trees on the slope of a mountain. The path is smooth and lit by sun. You are just entering the forest. The light filters down thru the trees. It is like a cathedral. The huge trees lift your gaze toward heaven. It seems like heaven too, with the path leading on. The lure of the forest never ceases: the magic keeps on. The love of God is here. This is real life, the way it should be. This is heaven on earth.


A Mountain Stream

A mountain stream with water rushing over the rocks. The sun is pouring down and lights up the rocks and sand. It makes a gurgling noise and the water is ice cold. It races along out of sight, full of energy. There may be a leaf floating on it. Sometimes it is on top of the water and sometimes dips underneath as it floats by . . . . .

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Ocean Moods
Water has a life all its own.
In the ocean all the creatures call it home.
An here they live and play each and every day,
the only way that they have ever known.

The rhythm of the waves, in giant crests and swells
sets everything in motion that not a thing can quell.
It seems for an eternity that storms can rage at sea
but yet at other times it’s placid as can be.

A moment held in time might be any one
of all her many moods, each one just begun,
slipping on the edge of each to change them one by one,
endless variation played beneath the sun.

The sea is blue or shades of green
in endless change of hue it seems.
White and green, impression cool,
or sometimes in black limpid pools.

Rise and swell and ever change
until in farthest distance gain
impression of a moving floor
rising, sinking evermore.

But all these words don’t start to say
how I feel about the sea,
unpredictable and changeable
and magic as can be.

From terror unto romance
people have found there
a solace and a comfort
for life too hard to bear.

And when the moon shines thru the clouds
and waves upon the sea,
a path of white romance
wrapped in secrecy.

And when a storm has raged at sea
many a soul has prayed
and scarce dared to draw a breath
till the break of day.

And tho the sea is mistress
to many in their minds
they know her unpredictable
and unleashed power find.

But in her gentle moods
she’ll seep into your heart
and find an answering melody
right there from the start.

The song of the sea is sure and strong
and makes you keep its pace.
Nothing breaks its rhythm,
neither time nor place.

It has a rapt insistence
that will not let you go
and holds you in its power
if you will or no.

It sings a song eternal
always going on
and tho it change the rhythm
it’s an endless song.

Below the surface in the depths
ships have come at last to rest
and know not what they’re piled on
in ceaseless rhythm, long since gone.

An sometimes we would like to know
what happened to them long ago
but deep secrets never tell,
the ocean only rise and swell,
leaving us to guess the fate
of the ship and all the mates.

An in a far more gentle tone
it graces land that folks call home.
It reaches to the farthest shore.
The water laps it evermore.

And in the tide pools on the shore
the tiny creatures all wait for
renewal that the tide can bring
laden with its offering.

And surges thru the long seaweed,
sway with every swell,
and looks as tho to tear it
from its grasp below as well.

An in some spots lie limpid pools,
tepid as the climate rules
and don’t do a thing all day
but quiet in the sun do lay
tho their placid tone belies
poison fish that under lie
and give no sign of danger there
that would be lurking everywhere.

The water on the rocks does flow
and fall back to the sea below
and dash against the rocks and shore
only to come back once more.

When insistent tide does rise
the birds fly back to ground that’s high.
And the water’s troughs and swells
rise and fall with force as well.

And I expect the ocean
will last for centuries more
than there are ever people
standing on its shore.

All alone its fury
will pound the rocky coasts
and all alone its sweet caress
will mesmerize its own.

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The Wind
Wind is so mysterious
as thru the leaves it blows
for it is unseen
and what it is who knows.

It seems very real
as branches bend and sway
blowing all the leaves around
in every kind of way.

It may be very gentle
or devastating force
as typhoons on the ocean
grow and change their course.

It may roar like thunder
or be unheard, unseen,
caressing all the mosses
in wild woodland scenes.

Where is it, we often say
when gusts of wind do blow our way.
But they never seem to tell
that magic that we know so well
and we are happy once again
when breezes blow however sent.

And in a melody of joy
caress the trees and grass
and everything that is alive
and all that’s in their path.

Blowing thru the forest
gaily on its way
the boughs sway up and down
at its capricious play.

The trees do come alive
and everything does move
almost at its whim
as the breeze comes thru.

Blossoms fly in spring
and scatter all around
whirling in the air
where they do abound.

And if blossoms or if snow
on the ground they still do blow
catching every eye that sees
with beauty of the wind and trees.
And when we lift our eyes on high
we find the clouds across the sky.
Never ceasing on they go
changing as the breezes blow.

Clouds that so proud
to be riding on high
sweeping and drifting
and change in the sky.

For the wind that propels them
pauses and cease
or leaves them to drift,
rearranging with ease.

And the clouds and the wind
in the emptiness play
and exchange their position,
advantage and shape.

And the sun and the wind
mingle and play
and the rain is accomplice
on many a day.

And the clouds fly above
and rain rushes down
mingled with wind
from the sky to the ground.

Welcomed by trees
and welcomed by earth
and by the creatures
and all that do thirst.

An on the darkest, silent night
startling clouds rush out of sight—
swiftly on a mission fly
unknown by any who may sigh.

Riding in tumultuous sky
shining clouds sweep darkly by,
swallowed in the dark of night
and not a sound does break the quiet.

With awe it holds you in its spell,
tumbling, speeding, naught can quell
and glimpses light and dark do tell
of turmoil that we know so well.

And in its wilder, unleashed self
the wind may sculpture rock itself
that ever for the centuries lay
in its unforbidden way
or carry sand to do its work
on the mountains or the earth.

Or in the desert pile sand
and move the dunes by whim and chance,
or leaving miles of ripples, waves
on the dessert in its wake.

The wind churns up the ocean
and plays with it at will
and foam and spray go every way
until the ocean’s still.

And gales may ride a ship at sea
in desperate, unknown strait
and not relent until well spent
and they have had their way.

The mystery of the wind it seems
is that we cannot see
just what it is that’s all around
and always is so free.

Tho we see the trees to bend
and leaves blow all around,
we cannot see the wind itself
or know where it is found.

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Fascinating all who see,
clouds above the greatest beauty.
Swift or still or fleet or slow,
always changing, on they go.

They seem so very much alive
as they pass us in the sky.
Large or small or stretching out,
almost any kind are found.

Sometimes they fade into the sky,
the edges brushed as if they hide
and then again will fade away
and another take their place.

Some are fast and some are slow
and pass another far below.
But when the wind is very strong
it sweeps them swiftly right along
and sail so fast it seems that we
their likeness do but briefly see.

Astonished as they fly right by
we do but glimpse their hasty flight
but find that it does satisfy
our need to hurry deep inside.
Strong and sure they now become,
a lesson to a watching one.

But even if the clouds are slow
we cannot catch their ceaseless flow
to remember every change
or all the variations made.
And if you chance to look away
they move around and rearrange.

Still we love to look on high
and follow them up in the sky,
yearning yet to comprehend
the changes changing without end.
And full of all their artful play
exasperated turn away.

For they do move continuously
while we may watch but momently,
but long to know their life in full,
the clouds we find so beautiful,
remembering every motion made
unfolding in an endless way.

For light and shadow don’t repeat,
each moment changing endlessly;
always forward in its flow
even as the wind does blow.

They lead our mind to far beyond,
passing ever on and on.
Some break loose and some remain
or vanish in their vast domain.
Or smaller ones will overtake
the ones they follow as a race.

Where are they going?
What do they see?
Over horizon
they pass steadily.

A distant land may come in view
and they will travel all anew.
For they take an unknown path
we never follow when they pass.

Some see people or their like
in the clouds up in the sky.
Or maybe see a teddy bear
on a cloud up in the air.

But if the sky is bare and blue
it sometimes seems quite empty too.
It really doesn’t seem the same
without the clouds that never came.

Sometimes the sky is pebbly
and clouds are full of light
almost like a lantern
shining from inside.

Then the light does dim,
the rifts all silver-white
almost like platinum
in the muted light.

Astonished we do gaze
at this unusual sight,
the clouds that are now platinum
in the early light.

An on the darkest night we swear
look like icebergs in the air,
floating on a dark, black sea
on a path we cannot see.

And if we watch the clouds at night
sail across the moon alight,
dimming it or partly hide,
amazing on the darkest night.
So fleet and striking is the sight
it seems unreal, this silent fright.

And grateful once again to see
this awesome drama like a dream
or a portent who can say
the meaning as it flees away.

And the clouds again can do
their mysteries upon earth too
and create an atmosphere
in fog that may be lying here.

For mist on earth is like a cloud
surrounding us outside somehow
and on a misty night or morn
moves around without a form
wrapping ‘round a porch or tree,
shifting, rising silently.
We barely see the yard
until it thins and slightly parts.

Mystery sweeps thru the air
if we can see and what and where.
And peering long into the night
we watch the currents fall and rise
and marvel at the matchless sight
and feel very satisfied.

Then there are the rain clouds,
dark and rushing down,
suddenly upon us
but then a welcome sound.

After they are finished
and lightened is the sky,
blue does shine with sun
and smile before our eyes.

And hearts are light and cheerful
and happy once again
and hasten on their varied ways
renewed in spirit yet.

For clouds are beauty riding high,
changing ceaseless in the sky.

As soon as we do see her
we find that she does change,
in endless variation
that’s fluid as the rain.

And finding most delightful,
fluid in its flow,
the nuances of beauty
more than we can know.

For works of art are many
but static as they’re made
and look the same tomorrow
as they did today.

But in the clouds and in the rain
and all things that we love,
the beautiful unspoken
as heaven sent to us.

And keep within our hearts
sustaining all life thru
that there exists such beauty
as we ever knew.

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Along a Forest Path
Along a forest path
great adventures lie.
You never know at any turn
just what will meet your eye.

A path that’s smooth and pressed
is the very best
but often they are rocky
and many kinds exist.

First you smell the softness
of the forest air
and mellow scent of pine or fir
depending on what’s there.

And all the scents combine
into only one,
and that’s the smell of forests
deliciously begun.

Overhead the trees
impress you with their size
and they seem like giants
that have come alive.

The towering trees dark, deep green
invite you to come on
and they’re so full and fresh
that in your heart’s a song.

The sight of full, rich greenery
is one that doesn’t tire.
The forest leaves its history here
as it has risen higher.

Pine and fir, oak and fern
mix along the way
and admiration for the trees
makes you want to stay.

You may hear the birds sing
or listen to them call—
their voice it floats from tree to tree
clearly over all.

You man spot a towhee,
woodpeckers now and then
or perhaps a little finch
its song begin again.

They add a lot to traveling
as you walk along
for soft or shrill or echoing
they’re talking in a song.

Their very presence lifts you
and fills your heart with cheer
for in the quiet spaces
make life very near.

The best thing I have seen
is by a mountain stream
where tiny grains of light
softly filtering
from branches high aloft
in entities so soft
that you can see the texture
of yellow mist is wrought.

The water is so cold
and sunlight is so warm
that these contrasting things
keep you busy all the morn.

Wading in a mountain stream
is not like ponds at home
for it is icy cold
and chills you to the bone.

But with the combination
of the water and the sun
you can play a little while
tho the water’s never warm.

To sit and eat you lunch
on a long or stone
is very satisfying
as many a soul would own.

However when you’ve finished
all your luncheon fare
you can’t go out and buy more
for no food is there.

Animals in general
are a cautious lot
and usually stay away
from a traveled spot.

It is nice to think that they
would nuzzle on your hand
but they would not be wild ones
to take so bold a stand.
And some of them if they get caught
close to where you are
will only hide and wait
till you are very far.

It’s only at a distance
the animals come out
and even then, among themselves,
sometimes don’t show themselves.

You may hear a scurrying
along the forest path
but never see the creature
who hides himself at last.

One problem of the forest,
most likely ever be,
is finding good, clean water
in the midst of all the trees.

For when you are out hiking
you will surely find
having good, clean water
is often on your mind.

An tho the water you may find
is usually pure and clean
it may not be so simple
to find it yet again.
People on a trail
fill up their canteen.

You may see some flowers,
an experienced eye will ken,
a leaf or two quite hidden
in a forest glen.

Some know many kinds
and have a practiced eye
discerning all the shrubbery—
the rest will pass them by.

It’s fun to go with one
who knows the forest lore
so you can come back richer
than you were before
and friends make of the plants and trees
and always learning more.

It is likely too
that now and then a rock
will get into your shoe
or sometimes in your sock.
And leaves and twigs and needles
also lodge inside
and you must rest against a tree
or rock along the side
and empty out your shoes and socks
where twigs and pebbles hide.

Altho the little creatures
are usually out of sight
you may see bear or grizzly
and they can give a fright.

A black bear and a grizzly
are of a different sort,
black bear are usually harmless
but grizzlies will make war.

And many terrible tragedies
have happened on a hike—
grizzlies may paw and maul you
and have tremendous might.

A good thing to remember,
and hear what hikers say,
is watch for animals with young
and keep out of their way.

And when the evening came at last
we began to look around
to try to find a likely spot
where we could settle down.

We chose a little clearing
protected from the north
and set our mats upon the ground
and ate our meal of course.

We didn’t build a fire
for if we did we feared
that just a little spark
would endanger all life here.

We lay down on our mats
and they were bumpy too
for where the ground looked smooth before
we found rocks not a few.

We tried the right, we tried the left
and tried the ground between
but always under us
there were rocks it seemed.

It’s not as bad as on the sand
for it is misery:
however much that you may try
it’s hard as hard can be.

A wind arose, as winds will do
when a forest cools down
but we enjoyed it to a point,
lying on the ground.

And we could hear so many things,
night birds and a creek,
a splashing and a gurgling,
where we’d put our things to eat.

While overhead above us
the trees would creak and groan
and come right down upon us
you would surely own.

And in some places too
were patches of the sky
with trees outlined against them
and white clouds floating by.

It was rather peaceful
in our forest glen
but it was rather noisy too
and odd sounds without end.

an when we finally wakened
there was little light
for we had gotten up
just in back of night.

It takes many hours
for light to filter thru
the tops of pine and fir
and over ridges too.

And when the light comes streaming thru
it fills you heart with cheer
and life and warmth and goodness
seem then very near.

Our steps are light
our spirits strong
and our surroundings
hold no wrong.

In fact right now we’d always say
we like the forest just this way.
The path goes up, the path goes down
and curves along and twists around.

The scene is quite familiar now
with forest trees and rocky brow.
And as we walk along
we hear a few bird songs.

Just what they say we do not know
but likely, “Here some creatures go”.
For we are strange to them you see
as they to us must always be.

The trees that are much smaller,
will it be that they
will tower in place of these
that are so tall, some day?

For now they’re in the shade below.
It doesn’t seem somehow
they’d have a very likely chance
to stretch way out and grow.

An when you’re almost thru the trail
you long for woods and fern.
There’s a sorrow to be leaving it
and a yearning to return.

For dust cities there are scores
and building quire a few
but on a forest trail
our souls we renew.

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They say rain filled the oceans
when earth was just begun
in that astounding turbulence
underneath the sun.

Whether in its power
or only in its play
water never ceases
to lure or fascinate.

Rivers span the continents
rushing to the sea
and when they are most powerful
flood irreparably.

The currents may be wild
and whirlpools may exist
and passageways most treacherous
to unsuspecting ships.

The waterways of all the world
most used for transportation,
the giant rivers reaching out
across the many nations.

Every kind of craft does ply
the rivers of the world
sometimes in great congestion
with their flags unfurled.

Water’s used for power
with the many dams
or for irrigation
to water all the land.

Water is essential
for every form of life,
both the plants and creatures
if they do survive.

Water is most fascinating
in its endless play
going over waterfalls
or rushing on its way.

Or falling from a leaf,
arising to a cloud
and riding swift along the sky
in silence or aloud.

Or snowflakes floating in the air
alighting almost anywhere
melting later in the soil
going down we don’t know where.

Water is most varied
of anything we see
from the massive oceans
to drops upon a leaf.

Water may be ice
or yet it may be steam,
a solid or a liquid
or vapor so it seems.

Water may be other things
as hail or sleet or snow
one of the most varied
substances we know.

and when it does evaporate
it rises once again
and forms the clouds we love
and showers now and then.

This cycle gives renewing life
to water everywhere
both on earth and high above
from sea into the air.

And when the sun is hot
the vapor do arise
forming clouds so beautiful
we can’t believe our eyes.

And clouds of water vapor
ride along the sky,
cooling and condensing
as they travel by.

And water starts its life again
from places high aloft
and falls as rain in summer storms
alighting oh so soft.

And clouds that are so beautiful
with white and yet with gray
change their shape each moment
as the float away.

And following their journey
continents do span
as the miles roll beneath
at ease on every hand.

Whether they mean snow or rain
or just a bit of hail,
silently they ride the wind,
on and on they sail.

Longingly we see them pass
and wonder where they go
in a universe so vast
but we never know.

Many are so beautiful
and take on color too
in awakening of dawn
or sunset’s flaming hues.

And what they mean to us
it is hard to say
as steadily they cross the sky
different day by day.

A drop of water thus may be
full of great variety
and travel high or travel low
in clouds or on the earth below,
down the rivers to the sea
and up again in clouds so free
playing hard of very gently
in a life so endlessly.

An far out in the ocean
in giant crests and swells
all the world is water
that sea life know so well.

For life began in water
so long ago they say
and gradually emerged
but not too far away.

And life that’s in the ponds
or lakes or yet the seas
depends upon the water
almost totally.

And finds its food within,
entire way of life,
and often knows no else
than the water’s life.
Seals and tiny crabs
and porpoises that play
only know the water
that they’re in all day.

As for the many lakes
sparkling in the sun
filled with clearest water,
primeval still are some.

And of the many creatures
that come to take their share
a gratitude for water
that it again is there.

For all of life needs water,
the fish and birds and trees
and all the many creatures
that come so stealthily.

The power of water’s legendary
as it pounds the coasts
or in giant swells
sinks the ships and boats.

Most awesome when it rages
its fury’s without bound
as it seethes in turmoil
and tumultuous sound.

And rivers flood almost at will
all thru history
with the greatest loss of life
and human misery.

And glaciers carve the mountains
and cover all the plains
if the earth is cool
in a great ice age.

And when it melts, receeding,
it may leave some lakes
and raise the ocean many feet
as it the water takes.

Many people feel drawn
to watch the sea at play
and sit along the shore
on almost any day.

They love to watch the waves come in
and see the lofty spray
and watch the tide go in or out
in fascinating play.

They love to see the storms
whose fury knows no end
until the wind and waves die down
and watch the peace descend.

And black and silent in the night
in large surrounding bays
in undulating stillness
ominous it lays.

It has not only power
but also likes to play
as rain comes tumbling down
on a rainy day.

It seems so alive,
alighting all around,
announcing sudden presence
wherever it is found.

Coming from so far above
alighting everywhere
in joyous celebration
filling all the air.

Bouncing from the earth,
rippling on the lakes,
gleaming on the trees
almost every place.

Water may be beautiful
in any form to see,
especially crystal clear
with good transparency.

Drops of water on the leaves
beautiful to see
as we fondly gaze at them
to hold in memory.

The drops do magnify
and make the leaf most clear,
fresh and new and sparkling
distantly or near.

Sometimes they catch the rainbow
in the drops of dew
and colors shine from them
as in the large one too.

And if we see a rainbow
we must stand in awe
at the meaning there
before it soon is lost.

And wonder if in other worlds
if other worlds there be
ever see a rainbow
like the ones we see.

As it grows so strong or faint
we hate for it to leave
and see a barren sky again
that does not seem to please.

For water has most any mood
from lashing of a storm
to a tiny drop of rain
we can hear no more.

We like to see it in the day
or hear it in the dark,
soothing and relaxing
as all of water’s art.

As we listen in the night
imagination soars
far out in the universe
from whence the water pours.

A growing sense of wonder
that this could ever be,
ceaseless thru the night
and still abundantly.

And then we hear the magic
as the rain does cease
with tiny clearness here and there
dripping quite off-beat.

And of outstanding sights to see
spectacular to all
is the most magnificent,
Victoria waterfall.

Here is splendor we may see
cascading with no rivalry
water rushing swift below
thundering with majesty.

And high above a rainbow there
hanging in the misty air,
a sight impressive to behold
magnificent beyond compare.

And caverns in this country
in the Carlsbad caves
carved by water long ago
and so slowly made.

And water lying far beneath
in silent, treacherous pools
forming unknown passageways
dangerous, dark and cool.

So added to its qualities
is the one of mystery
of the water underground
or ocean floor that’s never seen.

Unknown by us in many ways
its life is just its own
existing thru millennia
in countless ways untold.

For water’s life is endless
and sings an endless song
reaching the sublime,
living on and on.

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There are so many kinds of trees
we cannot name them all
but they are very beautiful
from large unto the small.

We always have to stop and pause
when we see a tree
for each one has a message
and meaning very deep.

For they were here before us,
very ancient be.
Their meaning is unconscious
in our memory.

Each one tells a story
of the rain and sun
and wind that whips them all around
as their years are done.

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The Maple
My favorite tree’s the maple
and everywhere you find
this tall and gracious presence
waving in the light.

The leaves have fingers five
and many get quite large,
giving lots of shade
in woodlands and in yards.

The squirrels do like to play
on its supple limbs
and birds are usually found
on top and yet within.

In spring the maple winglets
form upon the tree,
hanging on the branch
in clusters that are green.

The sail down upon the ground
to start another tree.
Embedded in the earth
a seedling we soon see.

And in the fall they turn quite brown
lying everywhere
and I think the squirrels eat them,
the seeds just lying there.
In the fall sometimes
the leaves turn very red
with yellow and with green
also found on them.

They float down on the ground
so we all can choose
some that are so lovely
and some that we can use.

Children play among the leaves
and toss them in the air
and take a few inside
for decorations there.

So we see the maple tree
has many aspects yet
and is a lovely shade tree
with leaves we can’t forget.

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The Oak
The oak is very strong
with curves along its leaves
and in the fall they turn to bronze
most interesting to see.

You don’t find them so often,
only now and then,
but in the olden days
built ships and homes with them.

The squirrels do like the oaks
with all the acorns there
and hide them in the fall
for their winter fare.

Children like to make
little acorn heads
with a cap on top
and eyes and mouth indent.

An oak my be inspiring
for us to be strong
and definite in character
as we go along.

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Flowering Trees
There are several trees in spring
where tiny blossoms come.
They are pink or red
and pretty in the sun.

If you take a drive
you see the trees in bloom
lined along the street,
beautiful and new.

Lilacs are a bush
or lilacs are a tree,
with their heavenly scent
lovely as can be.

People like to gather them
and carry them inside
in white or luscious purples
for a spring delight.

Dogwood is another
many people know.
Brown and white the blossoms,
delicate to show.

You may find a hillside
or a small ravine
full of lovely dogwoods
growing near a stream.

Magnolia are impressive
of many different trees
where their large-shaped blooms
hang exotically.

They remind me of the South
with its graceful ways –
magnolia trees in bloom –
in a bygone day.

The tulip tree’s unreal
when it blooms in spring
with cups of green and orange in them,
a most unusual thing.

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Fruit Trees
We think of fruit trees in the spring
when they come to life
with blossoms oh so beautiful
in pink tones and in white.

They make a fairyland
out of any yard
and weddings often use them
as a work of art.

There are so many kinds of fruit
we could not name them all –
cherries, pears and peaches
and apples in the fall.

In the warmer climates
oranges, lemons too,
bananas in the tropics
and mangoes not a few.

Fruit often grows in orchards
for the biggest crop
but many grow at home
that families like a lot.

It is a giant business
all across the land,
canning them and freezing them
for winter close at hand.

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The Willow
The willow is a graceful tree
with long stems hanging down
and many grow quite large,
with leaves that touch the ground.

It’s rather like a waterfall
with water coming down
as the stems and leaves
drag upon the ground.

It is a striking tree,
poetic as they are
and you may often see it
in the Chinese art.

It likes a lot of water
and ground that’s rather wet
but it grows quite easily
and is no trouble yet.
One lady took a stick
and planted at a slant
and 30 years or later
a giant tree on hand.

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The Nut Tree
We have an English walnut tree
and many hours spent
watching squirrels upon it,
those for whom it’s meant.

It started as a sprout
from roots of other trees
and tho it’s 25
it grows very slowly.

There are 3 trees in fact,
just a foot apart
but they get along
for that’s how they did start.

The branches very supple
and also they are slim.
The leaves are slow to come
upon the slender limbs.

A squirrel will sit upon a limb
and peel off the hull.
It is very quick
and pieces fall below.

It chatters at a cat or dog
and scolds them very well
but they can’t have his nut
still inside the shell.

So we have the nut trees,
delicate and slim
and meant for squirrels upon them,
running on the limbs.

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The holly tree is lovely,
to cherish all the year
but it seems more special
when Xmas time is here.

Not as large a tree
it tapers to the top
with densely pointed leaves
that prick you till you stop.

The female has the berries,
small and darkish red
and it’s the one we love
at Xmas time I said.

The leaves are thick and shiny
and stay on all the year
and we are blessed with holly,
the ones that we have here.

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I think of many pictures
with pines upon the hills.
Far into the distance
you can see them still.

Often there is snow
and it is wintertime
but they take the cold
in the northern climes.

The colder it becomes
the smaller that they get
to take the winter winds
fiercely blowing yet.

Pine cones are all sizes
from giant to the small
but the giant redwoods
have cones that are so small.

Some trees don’t have cones
for almost 20 years,
until they are mature
and the cones appear.

Pines are used for Xmas
but it is a shame
to cut so many for a week
and small ones just the same.

The pine is used in tapestries
and many forms of art,
as the Chinese scrolls
where meaning plays a part.

The pine is found around the world
almost any place,
especially northern countries
where the people gaze.

They are cheerful in the snow
and many do them love
as well as many birds
swooping from above.

An the towering firs
precious to them too,
for trails in the woods
and boughs the creatures use.

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Bamboos are very interesting
because they’re like a pole,
small branches sticking out
and pointed leaves, the whole.

In China and the Orient
we usually find the most
and they are often pictured
on a Chinese scroll.

They are a work of art,
painted with a brush
and have many meanings
to those who think as such.

They have many uses
in building and in trades
and the pandas eat them
in the scanty shade.

In a Chinese restaurant
you may notice here
bamboos in a corner
for the atmosphere.

Used for decoration
in the home and yard,
bamboos very graceful
and they touch the heart.

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The Redwoods
These giant trees inspire awe
of the deepest kind
and wonder at their age
and ancientness we find.

Some are 5,000 years –
before the time of Christ
or Solomon or Abraham,
they had living life.

They are so old we cannot think
just how old they be
or what their life has been
or everything they’ve seen.

John Muir the famous naturalist
asked Teddy Roosevelt
to come to California
and see them for himself.

He took a train and went
and slept beneath the trees.
He made a national park
so everyone could see.

The redwoods are a treasure
of a sacred kind
to cherish thru the centuries
wherever we may find.

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Precious Trees (The Forest)
The trees are very precious
and should not be disturbed
or used too much for trifles
for tourists’ taste to lure.

For they remain for centuries,
and thousands, millions years
and are a gift of God
to cherish while we’re here.

And all the creatures seen, unseen
live her every day
in quiet peace and happiness
which every is God’s way.

It’s always sad to leave
the forest and God’s trees
for we can never say
what the meaning to be.

We can never put in words
or ever can explain
what it is that move us
tho it seems so plain.

The sun shines down on trees,
the wind and yet the rain
and tho they bow to all,
they always are the same.

A tree seems quite eternal,
ancient but yet new,
when it blooms in spring
or leaves appear anew.

For walking in a forest
we are as close to him
as ever as the silence
radiates from it.

For it is profound
and lights our way along
the wisdom of eternal
and an endless song.

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