I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Alfred Joyce Kilmer, "Trees".
3 comments:
First time I've looked at this blog. Since it is art instead of a web 'log' though, shouldn't it be called a webfolio?
Also, you can't call it Scen(t)awry unless you present it in
"Smell-o-Vision." (tm)
where's your other blog?
Great poem though!
It's a blog anyway, a showcase of my slow movement through digital art. Smell-o-vision is my next technology, Will.
What other blog, Myslykemeeh? I have four, was unable to keep five. ;-) Maybe you can find it at the profile, because I'm ashamed of it?
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