I think that I shall never see
A poem 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.
– Joyce Kilmer
A very special tree came into our house yesterday. For the first time in the history of ever, I did not help pick it out. Tim and the boys went off in search. And came back within the hour. With our Christmas tree.
It was not the tree I would have picked.
It was not a big tree.
I like big, BIG CHRISTMAS TREES.
This tree. Was not any of that.
I crazied all over the house.
Then. Regardless of everyone and myself I decorated our tiny, mini tree.
And felt like the fool.
Because it is beautiful.
How could it not be?
It’s our Christmas tree.