The Prayer of the Tree

On a cold winter's night

I am the heat of your hearth. 

I am the friendly shape

That screens you from the summer sun.

My fruits are refreshing draughts

Quenching your thirst as you journey on.

I am the beam that holds your house

The board for your table

The timber that builds your boats.

I am the handle of your hoe

The door of your homestead

The wood of your cradle

The shelf of your last resting place.

I am the gift of God

And the friend of Man.

You who pass by listen to my prayer.

Harm me not.

Harm me not.

Anon

Arilx