RETURNING ... WITH A TREE

There is nothing like a tree to lift the spirits.
One tree.
The oak tree in the field.
At Dunira.
(Photo by Alastair at Easter)

BUT

for a proper poem, the old ones are still the best ones:

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet 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.

By Joyce Kilmer