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I saw a bride splendid in white garmentsI saw a woman with one hundred children The children plump and firm within her arms,But some fell down or strangers took and ate them
I’ve seen those tough as oaks
weep like willows
even the hardest thugs can have tear stained pillows
most can’t see the forest for the trees
In the Carribeanat the end of daysun drops suddenlylike a fire ballbehind forested hills
Five children clasping mittenscould not hug the entire trunk.Whole hands could hide in the folds of its bark.James, the tallest boy in class,could sit on a root,
From Things You Find in a Poet's Beard by A.F. Harrold
Frost spins white lines
on the lawn,
grass turns glass-like,
Forest could keep secretsForest could keep secrets
Trees are good at what they do,
at being oak or beech or yew.
I am in a forest;My brothers will never find me here.Over my head is a green umbrella;I feel the earth under my bare feet.
The dinosaurs are on the march again.They have trampled across the terrace overnight,Leaving green, veined footprints in their wake.Now they lurk in the undergrowth;
The willow and the windare natural dancing partners;look how the willow weepswith the joy of movement,skillfully rooted to the spot.