For Dayle's Simple Pleasures Party: A Tree

How many trees do you pass on a daily basis?

Most people go by dozens of these gems of nature but how many people stop and take time to really look at them? 

Peering up into the branches of a tree that has been around for a couple hundred years has got to be one of life's greatest yet most simple pleasures.  Standing beneath a canopy of leafy branches is a humbling experience.

Whenever life's difficulties weigh heavily on the heart, take a walk outside. Find a tree and really look at it. Let your eyes go all the way up to the top, where the birds build nests and squirrels do circus acrobats.

Isn't it wonderful that such a simple pleasure can fill you with awe?

Today's post was written for a Simple Pleasures party at Dayle's blog, A Collection of  This and That http://alittleofthisandthat2.blogspot.com/    It's fun to see what constitutes a Simple Pleasure for others, too,  so  check out all the other entries. It's a lot of fun.  Dayle's blog button is in the sidebar, too!

Childhood Memory: A Poem about a Tree

Parts of childhood remain forever in the human heart.

When my sisters and I were little, my mother used to recite poetry. On the spur of the moment, she could bring to memory every line of a poem learned in her own elementary school days. That always amazed me.

One of her favorites was a poem called "Trees."  It was written by Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918).  As an adult,  it surprised me to learn that Kilmer was a man.  His full name was Alfred Joyce Kilmer.

His poem on trees made a lasting impression in my mind and heart.  I was very moved when I read that Kilmer died in battle while serving in the U.S. Infantry. He was only 31 years old when he died.

The tree shown in this post must be very old. It's thick trunk is huge and gnarled. It's actually on the grounds of the National Shrine of the Divine Mercy in Stockbridge, Massachusetts.

Here is Alfred Joyce Kilmer's poem on trees. As I write this, tears are filling my eyes because I can hear the intonations in my Mummy's voice as she recited this poem to us. I sure miss her presence in my life as she died four years ago. (Thanks for introducing me to this lovely poem, Mummy.)

 Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's 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.

DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE POEM?

The Majesty of Trees Enriches Life

Once, when volunteering for an organization that served the blind, I met a young blind man who had been born with sight.

A cancerous brain tumor removal when he was about eight years old left him blind. One time I asked him what he'd want to see more than anything else if his sight could ever be restored. His answer astounded me.

     "A tree," he said.  He remembered how incredible a tree looked against the sky.

The reason his answer floored me is because I passed dozens of trees every single day but never even paid much attention to them.  It saddened me to think how much I took totally for granted.

From that day until now, I do look at trees and find them quite majestic.  Today I see them with great admiration and gratitude. 

Whether covered with green leaves in spring and summer, attired in autumn's scarlet splendor, or silhouettes of bare branches against the sky in winter, trees enrich our lives.

DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE TREE?