Garden Tree

I didn’t plant that garden tree But thinking, I just let it be I knew I should have cut it out But felt within to let it sprout And so, as seasons came and went I pruned this tree, its bole I bent Around the gable of my shed But left the limbs above my head The years passed by and I grew old I hated heat and shunned the cold My garden work became a chore As summer days my patience wore But resting underneath that tree Allowed me time to watch and see The beauty of my garden wrought And all the neighbored friends it brought A bunny comes to taste my beets While shaded so, I rest my feet A bumble-bee’s contralto thrum; A promise of much more to come Badgers, robins, the house finch red All come with hopes of being fed And I, too tired to wield my hoe, Am glad I let that elm tree grow.