Eleventh Hour

I Talk To the Trees 

Trees, extend your sinewy limbs towards me.
May I hide my weary spirit
amongst your billowy leaves?
Whisper to me the message from the Wind.
What did he say,
What mood was he in?
As life hurls and whips you to and fro.
How do you stand?
How do you grow?

Who covers you,
when storms rain on your head?
So content are you!
You still lay in your bed
soaking in the deluge
as nearby boats sank,
never murmuring,
you stand tall and
guard your bank.

Trees, no raging accusations have
been brought against you!
On moist days you receive the rain,
on dry days, you are thankful
for the dew.

When I breathe, you have life.
When you breathe, I have life.
Like me you live, and like me,
you die.
Yet on your worse days
you stagger not,
nor wonder why.
Your branches persistently
reach upward to the sky,
Praising God,
Your purpose defined.

Trees, embue me with wisdom
such as you have shown,
Do you too talk to God,
Have you always known?
Though you’ve been tossed and blown,
You stand strong and firm, 
rejoicing that you will one day
be seated, at the throne.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Compton, CA 90222
                                                                                          June 22, 2019@19:56