Beauty

Outside the wind breaks through the trees, softly brushing my face as another beautiful and glorious day breathes life into a chilled winter day. I say, "It is good." Soon Spring will push her warmth into the air announcing her beauty as it once again arrives. 

                  Trees

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.

     

 Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918