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Description
Oh to be one of the trees, whose arms extent into vast space and wait in moonlit stanzas for the haiku of day break. To be fierce in the ground, gripping firm to rock and waste, waiting for the moist hands of nature to prune rotted roots, with such strength to withstand endless winds, to soar silent in the ether with watery dreams unknown to mans sleep, is to sit at rest in the height of being. Still, motionless, tame and patient with calm whispering of the vocal chord leaves in a chorus with the deep breath of the wind, soothing the sayer and seeping into the gentle ears of lovers.
Oh to be evergreen, not yielding to seasons, maintaining pigments whatever the weather, keeping shade in the fever of summer, hugging warmth within the bark in the below zero winds. Untouched, never burdened by outer forces or unforeseen climates, that is the way of the mighty evergreen.
Would that my soul could stand as tall and wide as a sequoia, passerby straining their necks to behold my majesty, eagles nesting in my concealed branches that tower out of mans reach, I would shed seeds of potential in the soil of hearts gathered round about my trunk, making oceans out of dew drops.
Oh to be one of the trees, strong and untouched, hidden in a height that hands cannot reach.

-Matthew Kurtis Taylor.

Description
Oh to be one of the trees, whose arms extent into vast space and wait in moonlit stanzas for the haiku of day break. To be fierce in the ground, gripping firm to rock and waste, waiting for the moist hands of nature to prune rotted roots, with such strength to withstand endless winds, to soar silent in the ether with watery dreams unknown to mans sleep, is to sit at rest in the height of being. Still, motionless, tame and patient with calm whispering of the vocal chord leaves in a chorus with the deep breath of the wind, soothing the sayer and seeping into the gentle ears of lovers.
Oh to be evergreen, not yielding to seasons, maintaining pigments whatever the weather, keeping shade in the fever of summer, hugging warmth within the bark in the below zero winds. Untouched, never burdened by outer forces or unforeseen climates, that is the way of the mighty evergreen.
Would that my soul could stand as tall and wide as a sequoia, passerby straining their necks to behold my majesty, eagles nesting in my concealed branches that tower out of mans reach, I would shed seeds of potential in the soil of hearts gathered round about my trunk, making oceans out of dew drops.
Oh to be one of the trees, strong and untouched, hidden in a height that hands cannot reach.

-Matthew Kurtis Taylor.