|More on Trees
|I have always loved trees...
I have climbed trees, played "house" in trees, and found some trees to be my "secret
place." I love to be in the company of a great tree. A tree can feel like a home to me.
I love to hear them speak...when the wind rustles the leaves or pine needles. Their song
touches something ancient in me. Here in Hawaii we have ironwood trees...and oh the
sound they make when the wind is howling. I love to listen.. It quiets my soul.
Here are some tree poems I like...
"Trees is soul people to me, maybe not to other people, but I have watched trees when
they pray, and I have watched them shout, and sometimes, they give thanks slowly and
"Trees are alive and they have life like others because on cutting, they feel sorrow.
Similarly, they have the feeling of happiness. After cutting, a new branch comes out."
"We did not come to remain whole. We came to lose our leaves like the trees... The
trees that are broken--start again--drawing up from the great roots."
"Any fine morning a power saw can fell a tree that took a 1000 years to grow."
"A stricken tree, a living thing, so beautiful, so dignified, so admirable in its potential
longevity, is, next to man, perhaps the most touching of wounded objects."
I have seen the great Baobab trees of Africa rise out of the plain. Some of those trees
were around before Christ. What a sight it is to be in the presence of those "ancient
ones." I have a painting in my office of a Baobab tree. I remember sitting under one and
having a picnic... I remember touching the bark with my hand. I remember sitting in its
shade with my back against its trunk....
I love Baobab trees.