Listen to the breeze

that gives voice

to a Tree,

telling of times

that will come

to be.

like with the fall

of multitudes of leaves

leaving bareness

yet beauty

in a tall Tree.

Standing still

 fracturing light

that dances through branches

from the shafts from the Sun

as well as the glow

of the Moons mysterious light.

Barren in Winter

unfolding with Spring,

glorious with Summer

gracious with Autumns begin.

It's twisted branches

like hands outstreatched

reaching out for affection

standing tall

almost alone without a friend

majestic in a field.

Birds befriend

chatter when they meet

sit on it's branches

as in the breeze

they gently sway.

Whispering with words

as the wind blows

through its clasped hands,

sounding like Aida

crying out

yearning to go home

yet hesitant to turn back,

reaching a pitch

that attention

people it attracts

as if someone spoke

they all look back.

So seasons come

as they go

reason for us

the Tree's to know,

not to take for granted

nor ignor

but to respect

and applaud.

For some have stood

longer than you and I

have witnessed history

pass them by,

have been a shelter

maybe for kith and kin

long before your

grandparents were born,

there they stand

in their place

give them dignity

give them space.