House-Tree Poem by Smoky Hoss

That old Maple
just outside the window,
daily I look at it, and it, daily looks
everywhere.
Perhaps this old house
was built prior to the tree's birth;
however, I doubt that.
The Maple is so very old.
Now, to be sure,
this house was built before I was!
It is really old
... but, that tree!
oh, that amazing, grand and glorious
old tree... is beyond age.
It extends,
like generations past.
It looks in all directions,
like a god.
It sees,
up, down and all around.
It sees me
and this old house.
It knows the passing of time.
It understands living,
and dying.
Birds and chipmunks move along, and through it.
All form of living creatures come
to rest within it's peace.
Just as if it were indeed an old house of it's own.
Yet, how can that be?
For it has no
roof or rooms,
chinking or chimney,
walls or windows... or, then again,
does it?
Could it be on those in whom abide,
that they decide?
Birds - butterflies
squirrels - snakes
mice - moles, and, even the smiling moon.
These all, family members of
the old tree, in agreement have shown me
how this tree has been a home
longer than and to more than
any house ever erected.
Reminding me that,
acceptance of all
is the wisdom that truly gives life.