Trees don’t hurt me,
unless cut into batons.
In so cost conscious a countryside,
they afford me rest.
So cool, so upright, their dignity
binds me to the tranquil forest.
They assert an uncomputerised grain
which feeds my spirit’s hunger.
Trees offer shelter to my painful moods,
calm my tempers and fierce dreams.
We must learn respect for trees,
they can teach us to breathe,
to sway naturally,
to leave space in poems
for silence.
KEITH ARMSTRONG
