The Trees SpeakA Poem by Siddartha Beth PierceThe trees speak in whistles and windchimes of twigs and leaves among the breeze this late Saturday evening.
I was taught Botany can tell by their bark which is which in the forest as I brush my teeth with the branch of a beech- cook sassafrass tea in the summer months and fondly remember my grandparent's horse chestnut roasted once collected and carefully shelled from their spiney coatings.
The trees speak and give to thee the oxygen that you breathe the home in which you live fruit, nuts and berries- they deserve our respect as they are blessed living things the same as you and me- the trees speak sometimes so silently that we do not hear them yet cut them down or burn them whole, in the end, they will win by returning to Mother Earth tenfold.
© 2008 Siddartha Beth PierceFeatured Review
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Added on February 27, 2008AuthorSiddartha Beth PierceRichmond, VAAboutArtist, Poet, Educator, African and Contemporary Art Historian more..Writing
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