The trees pressed to the earth,
Express mirth,
To seasons worth.
Their foliage,changing colours,
A palette for an artist's valour.
Heat,rain and snow,
Through it all,they simply grow.
Their fruits I love to eat,
Under their shade,to rest I sit,
Upon one of them,I build a tree house for my son,
To play and have fun.
High and low on the trees,
Birds' nests I see,
According to their kind,
Beautifully designed.
I breathe their oxygen,
Through my lungs it courses on.
I drink their rain,
Live on their grain,
For them I should give a hand,
To save them on this land.