Monday, 7 November 2016

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

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