Unfinished Poem

Trees

I noticed each tree is an individual.

Some are poised photographed
like models with attitude.
Others, with their twisted, grace
are branched like the palm of a hand
reaching to catch something God threw.

Some pose blended with branches
that appear to be reaching up to the sky,
praising and thanking God for what He has given,
while others with outstretched arms
are asking "What on Earth am I doing here?”

Other trees the opposite: wilted, dying,
folded over, telling us they are tired
from constantly reaching for help,
have given up, lost their will to live.

The last are so large and rigid,
they are protectors of the soul
they have grown to encompass.