The Big Tree

Some things, like this tree, need no words to enhance their beauty. They would seem inadequate. But, just like last year, I can't help but post Joyce Kilmer's poem, "Trees", to honor this beautiful specimen, neatly groomed, which sits off of Williamson Road in Mooresville.

A big thank you to the architect who decided to build around the tree, rather than rip it up. This tree, were it able to speak, could tell us so much about how things have changed over the course of it's life. In a way, though, the tree does speak; each time the breeze rustles it's leaves, or when the winter wind moans through her bare limbs, and when the birds of summer sing softly from her leafy branches, the tree sings. And the best part is that those are three of my favorite songs.

"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 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.