Some of my poetry about wood and trees

Trees and Boards

Not long ago I was a magnificent tree,
 reaching for the sun and the eternal presence of God.
Then I was felled, in order to be used for the convenience of humanity.
Now, a pile of boards in a rack in the corner of a woodworker’s shop,
 I rest.
When you make use of me,
will you strive to recreate the beauty and magnificence of the tree I once was,
by paying attention to the shape of my lines, my colors, and the flow of life within me?
arranging my now separate pieces such that they provide a brief glimpse of that which i once was,
and which animates us all?

Tree

Walking up the mountain
I long to grasp a leaf gently in my hand
then turn,
slowly wrapping myself in its tree,
becoming its strength and nobility,
partaking in the adsorption of elements from the air
and soil as it builds steadily,
moment upon moment.
Measuring time in milliseconds
then millennia.
For ever aloof from the travails of men.