John Beharry Poet Sonnet

My Friend, the Tree

In the park, there stands a very old tree
Which has been there before I came to be
I love sitting on the bench in its shade
Just being there, my concerns seem to fade

On its branches, I can hear birds singing
And I can feel a gentle breeze blowing
Then the leaves of the tree begin to dance
Watching their movement puts me in a trance

I can see sunlight peeping through the leaves
As they continue dancing in the breeze
Softly, I thank the tree for being there
And caress its furrowed bark with great care

That tree is now my very special friend
Our friendship will endure to the end

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Judy Konos April 28, 2015 at 10:06 PM That tree....yes always we have a special tree. Mine is an old Hickory Nut...the shade the memories and best of all throwing the hickory nuts into the barbeque pit where it glows red pops open and the oils seep deep into the meats. Thanks...great poem John Beharry May 5, 2015 at 8:45 PM Thanks, Judy. I feel a deep closeness and affinity for trees. Maybe, I was a tree in a past life.