I can hear the song of the trees
It floats from high above my head
Whispering through the rippling leaves
Being also heard by the birds perched
As they begin to dance from branch to branch
And then the birds also join in the song

Listen to the story of the ancient Oak
You shelter in the branches to hear it told
Of a long time ago when fields grew wild
Of the changing centuries that have passed on by
How the Oak has lived through long forgotten battles
It is a story shrouded in a history of hidden lore

Changing colours as the very leaves start to paint
How many artists have these trees always inspired
The Mountain Ash and the Cedar so royal
The tears unseen from the Weeping Willow
The solitude of the lonesome Pine
Gothic secrets in a cemetry of the Yew

I planted a tree to remember those gone by
Knowing as it grows, so their legend lives again
How they changed my life by their own
So now I hope that their song will be sung
Even when I am gone and long forgotten
And like that very tree, I know they will live on



copyright Chris Smith December 12th 2009