Walking through the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest near Robbinsville, North Carolina, this week, I was awe struck at the beauty of these small trees in the early evening light on this October day.
The poem by Joyce Kilmer says it all:
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's 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.