My knees caress the soft soil
In the shade of a giant.
A kind giant of course,
My very own BFG.

He brings me life,
My very own breath.
He is a generous giver,
Never expecting anything back.

In the autumn,  
Parts of him fall,
Storms of orange and yellow
Obscuring my vision.

He waits for me in the morning,
Standing in my yard for eternity.

In the summer,
I seek his refuge,
Cool shadows lessening into
A blissful comfort.

To this sweet maple I'm grateful.