For the Love of Trees

I'm waiting for the stately beech, the giant elm, the maple, each asleep and dreaming of the dawn of gentle spring to rain upon their bony branches, reaching, bare, to catch the warming sunshine there. I'm hoping for the graceful larch, the spreading ash to form an arch of shaded green where I may rest from summer's heat, in coolness blessed— for cherry blossoms, drifting down, to dress my head with petaled crown. I know the oak and birch will soon spread soothing leaf from heat of noon, where in my hammock I shall swing, beneath their boughs and wren shall sing a lullaby to comfort me— I wait for each beloved tree.