A black walnut tree stands on a fence line as the sun cuts through the morning fog on a dance near Elkton, Ore., on Monday, Sept. 3, 2012. |
Sometimes it pays off to get up early. |
Cows graze on a hillside as the sun cuts through the trees. |
Trees
I think that I shall never see
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
A tree that looks at God all day,
A tree that may in summer wear
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Poems are made by fools like me,
A poem lovely as a tree.
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A nest of robins in her hair;
Who intimately lives with rain.
But only God can make a tree.
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