The tree I knew to stand so long,
The letter I would have sent it
By a wren, by a finch, or a blue bird with it’s song.

After a rain, the tree seemed to rain even more,
From under it’s leaves,
The ground became it’s chimes as ever before,
Drop by drop it seems.

It’s view, stands alone, it’s branches many,
Like any tree it moves when told
Just by the whisper of the wind.
May ever shiver when it’s cold, gripping for life as any,
Would never think twice, just by the said wind,
Like so many.

Not knowing that more are taken by the hand,
And the hand that made the kind and unkind air,
To hold the waters from a mist or from a downpour,
Drop by drop.

©2007, Ron Globe