A TREE SPEAKS
A tree along the mountainside lay withering in sorrow,
Ah! Think of what I might have been had I been let to grow,
Up tall with the sun to shine upon my upturned face,
My branches spread all stately, green and full of grace.
To bend and sway when the wind would blow,
And, swirling, let me leaves cover the ground below,
To watch the children in summer as they frolic in the sun,
And wish at times that I, too, could laugh and jump and run.
To gladly let my leaves and bark be nibbled by the deer,
Or be used as an itching post for some itchy steer.
For talking happy picnickers to eat beneath my shade,
As shelter for kids at play, pretending there’s a raid.
In autumn, with wondrous joy, to have leaves of every hue,
To blush with pride and happiness and bring pleasure to you.
Alas, these treasures will be lost to me,
As the things that could have been will cease to be.
Man with so little thought has laid so much to waste,
Thinking seldom of the beauty with which our earth’s been graced.
By Marian Ashley