Spanish Moss Adorn the Oak Tree

Remember this poem?

Trees
Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918

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.



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Location: Boyd Hill Nature Preserve


“One’s destination is never a place,
but a new way of seeing things.”
– Henry Miller

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