a congregation
of creation,
Aspens gather in;
between the hills
where sunshine fills
the church of the ravine.

triumphantly the hymns
that play
on many golden ray,
light the way
for trees that pray
and touch the Heavens' gate.

a gentle breeze
is not perceived
except on leaves of green,
whose bright colors
quake and nod
moved by a breath of God.

their branches white
bathed in moonlight
reflect a spirit strong,
stood straight these years
through storm and tears
with roots in solid ground.

the Aspen Grove
how I would rove
a childhood of dreams,
my spirit always
spoken to
in company of trees.