Like A Tree

Does a tree ask, who is climbing
Or who will view its limbs
It just rises to the occasion
It does what life gives it bid

If each man had this thinking
What would our lives be
Something much different
Something we could love to see

Every leaf a loving gift
Each would be a part of it all
Each one doing his portion
Each one willing to fall

Then when spring returns
And the snow has cleared away
New leaves grow upon these limbs
The view is a fresh, bright display

Copyright 1995 Robert Luttrell