Just Wondering By Ellyssa Pearce

Laying on your back under the shade of

Its arms stretched out wide and high, wondering

How it became this way, why is its skin

So rough? Why does it have the color of

 A summer breeze? The energy it obtains

Is from something we do not see but feel

And its toes wrap around deep within the

Surface you lay upon, such a magnificent

Creature shouldn’t be tortured so by the

Wind and the monotonous birds that

Make their homes upon its innards. One of

 Its children sits on your knee, broken and

Chipped at the end wondering how it fell,

Its veins made visible by the sunlight

That feeds its attachment.  How is something

So little and precious just discarded by a tall

Regarded story told by many. You

Suppose its just a deeper message told

By the machine that its numbers are being

Filed down to a fine powder and made

 Into things he has no use of. Why take

What is not ours and degrade its body

To things that try and help us see the danger

 Of this? We do but we don’t act. We see

But we don’t care. But he grows still just to

Show the pity he expels from his arms

Stretched out wide and high to the thing that brought

Him to the place where I now lay and think

About how he was created and why

We were given the thought to use him so
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Trees

by Joyce Kilmer

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.