On my way home from work tonight I saw a gorgeous red oak standing alone among a group of yellow ash trees. Wow. Just wow. The redness of the tree was a stark difference from the yellow neighbors. The ash trees seemed to be placed there just to celebrate the oak. In the summer or the spring or the winter I drive by this group of trees and see bare branches or green leaves. Sugar maples are a pretty crimson red right now but the barn red of the oaks is also a luscious color. Fall creates the difference that makes it easy to pick out one species from the other. If the growing season in Minnesota was made into a play, fall is when the actors (trees) take a bow and the spotlight falls on each one highlighting their talent, their beauty, and their worth.
Trees
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet 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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