Love Poem to a Tree

James R. Muri

Copyright 1996

The tree is green
Before it falls
And becomes my
Paneled walls.

Or perhaps it burns
To give me heat,
Or light my room,
Or toast my feet.

Or picks my teeth,
Or stakes my vines,
Or makes a rack
For my best wines.

Or crates my goods
And packs my house
Or frames my doors,
Or traps my mouse.

I think I will never see
A finer thing than a tree.
A tool of great utility,
Made especially for me.

Copyright, 1996 by James R. Muri

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