Trees

I was walking at dusk the other day and stopped in the middle of a cluster of pines. I looked up. They towered and swayed above me, wise old trees. I imagined them whispering to me as the wind moved through their needles making that awesome 'swishhhhhhhh sound.

I read a Mary Oliver poem this morning that I identified so completely with that I "mmmm" and "ahhhh'd" all the way through it. I don't think it's a Christmas poem but it certainly could be. Enjoy~

When I Am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, "Stay awhile."

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say

"and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine."