I stand awed before this tree in Autumn.
My eyes feast on the beauty they behold.
Against the canopy of bright blue heaven,
Leaves stand out in crimson and gold.

I stand chilled before this tree in Winter.
It stands startk and lifeless as stone.
Sad gray skies seem to frame and center
Naked branches lifeless as stone.

I stand trembling before this tree in Spring.
Once dead branches sing forth with life.
Here I witness an Easter morning
That ends all of Winter's great strife.

I sit content under this tree in Summer,
Enjoying the shade of its boughs.
I give thanks to God, the Tree-Maker,
Before Him this tree bids me bow.

©1996 Michael S. Davis