Singing Tree

Oh tree that stands neath skies of blue
I once was glad, and young with you.

And now at last you sing to me-
And tell me of that “USED TO BE”.

A tree who slowly, softly weaves,
The “SONGS OF SUMMER” through her leaves.

A tree who feels the winds go by-
as autumn sunsets pain the sky.

A tree who markes, when years are gone,
With tiny rings, if rains were long.

A tree whose musician, the rain,
Plays on its leaves, “The Old Refrain”.

And TREE, I hope some day to lie
Close by you…. neath the prairie sky.

Oh KILMER…take this song from me,
FOR I HAVE KNOWN, AND LOVED, YOUR TREE!

This is twice as long a Kilmers poem called “Trees”
And I think its almost better. Kilmers fame and name was won by that one poem of eight lines, that he called “TREES”….. He might have written a better poem, but one day the battle clouds rolled by, and Kilmer was amoung the dead. The young man was gone. All we have of him now is his song, TREES, it has been wreathed in notes, and is a soft melody now. Would they care one tenth as much for mine. My “SINGING TREE”.
It may some day be thrown away, as worthless, or “FOOLS GOLD” found by a prairie stream.
Yours Otto Christianson.