The Greatest Florist Poem by Randy McClave

When I am standing among the trees
In the forest deep,
I hear them whisper in the breeze
They never weep.
They majestically grow towards heaven
Were they know that God does reside,
Always with their branches of seven
With their praise and strength and always pride.
Though their roots are in the Earth
Where the Devil does always dwell,
God gave the trees all their birth
And their roots are so close to Hell.
Instead of growing down
They instead grow high and then higher,
They are seeking a glorious crown
Faith through God is their desire.
They will always seek the sunlight
Which shows them their faith to grow,
And they will battle the blight
And then seeds of their own they will sow.
Then their own tiny saplings
Will too reach up and then will reach to the sky,
Their leafs become their wings
As they reach so very high.
I now stand among the trees in the forest
Watching each one of them,
I know that God is the greatest florist
So, I stretch my arms out with their every limb.

Randy L. McClave