Just an Ordinary Tree

It's a tree. 

Nothing special, 

just an ordinary tree, 

at least to look upon.

Except to

birds nesting in it’s branches

bugs and tiny critters crawling through cracks and crevices of it’s brown crumbly bark

woodpeckers cleaning those same crevices of dead bugs and fine sawdust

squirrels racing on branches as laneways and bridges

garter snakes nesting in the tiny cave at the base of the big trunk 

where roots snake into the earth.

In spring, tender blossoms open to 

wasps and bees drinking nectar and spreading pollen.

In summer, children play beneath rustling boughs of green,

friends and lovers stroll in the dappled shade of it’s leafy branches.

In autumn, the old tree’s orange-yellow leaves drift to the ground,

a rotting blanket of mulch, while bare branches, light and lacy, become loose filters for low lying fog, sunshine or blue sky.

In winter, spreading sparse branches heavily laden with glistening snow, decorated with hoar frost through out each night, enter bright morning bejeweled in glittering crusts of white.

But it is just an ordinary tree.

“If you would know strength and patience,

welcome the company of trees.”

~ Hal Borland