I feel as if I were a tree
In an open field of wheat,
Wrinkled and aged and always free
To watch for visitors to meet.
I have seen things they don't know,
And I will teach them how.
So my visitor, though slow at first,
Will go away wiser now.
Oh yes, a tree gets lonely too
Sometimes when the sky is grey not blue
And the winter snow has stalled me
From telling stories, true.
A tree, though I may be,
I use this time to think
Of all the new things I might see
When comes the spring.