Email Poem

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Poem

Why that no good little birch
I think I alder leaf her
My aspens in the dirt
Don’t you know I’m not that poplar
I damn near choked on a little oak
And though I tried I am not maple 
Now the branches are all broke 
and the limbs are so unstable
 
I could go against the grain
But I’d hate to needle yew  
So I guess I’ll cedar later 
And bough out fir the one that’s true
  
Can’t see the forest for the trees 
Can’t tell just when the root will rot 
You know I think its elm diseased 
And I can do with out the knots 
Well now it’s really got me stumped  
Just when I should have sawed right through it  
And it’s too late to pack my trunk 
Or perhaps I just out grew it
 
I could go against the grain
But I’d hate to needle yew  
So I guess I’ll cedar later 
And bough out fir the one that’s true
 
Some trees grow up in a grove
Others make a stand alone
But there ain’t no peach with out a pit 
And there ain’t no pine with out a cone 

I’m sure the heart wood ain’t no good
So I won’t go out on a limb 
But when a tree is being felled 
I wish that someone would cry timber
I just don’t think that I’ll ever see 
A poem lovely as a tree 
So I won’t Beech and I won’t Pine 
I’ll just remind you one more time 

I could go against the grain
But I’d hate to needle yew  
So I guess I’ll cedar later  
If you were sap then you’d run too

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