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 busom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
sinuous limbs
of a sprawling tree look
like wriggling squid.
dry and yellow, fall leaves hang on like a thick head of gray hair.
grasses sway, the egret stalks, & even tree roots seem to crawl.
“turn left to go right”:
branches sweep around in arcs,
is the tree moving?
the bushy tree in the temple wall isn't so claustrophobic as I.
one oak tree
stands atop the hill:
unstruck by lightning.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 