1. Who can cause a tree to bend so easily; to curtsy, dance and, in joyous oscillations, sway;
To parade the kinfolk beauty; create the windsong music - howl, whisper, caress - before decay;
Then to shelter, to protect, all those who come in need; fulfilling its destiny of deep design?
“Demand” calls on the reservoir of offering; yet those feasting from splendoured boughs still choose to dine.
The counsel of the wise has failed; for now, the boughs must bear the brunt:
Bruised, battered, bashed - a bleeding branch - bespoke a barren bemused grunt.
Majestic in stature, enrobed, replete and sentinel in style,
It marches through its time on earth and points us to our God awhile.
2. Now appearing in fulsome glory, replenished in its season, extends a life within a plan.
Bedecked again in true finery - so comely and so gracious - before the marvelling of man.
Come, stand not aside from the tree so long established: can it be un-noticed? Yet, let us do it:
Honour the root and the trunk; honour the branch and the twigs; honour each leaf, each flower and each fruit.
God has oft-times spoken so that: without despairing, we will reap.
God at all times calls because: His tree, in honour, we should keep.
So let us now acknowledge, whether in our fury or our fear,
God still sometime speaks: when we will wonders watch, while, with wisdom, hear.
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