Trees Poem by Frederick Nellist

Is it a saint who plants a tree
A gift to you and me
Supposing no tree there
Say a prayer.

No birds flying trapeze
Or autumn leaves in the breeze
Birds nests float in mid air
do you care.

Invisible forests we search
Where the pine beech or birch
They don't flourish there
Apple, cherry oak or pear.

Be aware of this leafy treasure
Evolving at leisure
We look, don't always see
Saints may plant, God makes a tree.