In my yard, I have an old maple tree.
In Summer, it provides me with shade for free.
Its limbs for birds to chorus throughout the day,
Its trunk for woodpeckers to peck, rapidly, away.
In the Fall, the tree does what trees are grown to do,
Leaf with Autumn splendor for me and others to view.
Oh, many times I've thought to chop the tree down,
Saving me labor raking its leaves off the ground.
If I were the maple, would it do this to me?
I'm still pondering the tree's ultimate destiny!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Maple Tree the heavenly blessings by the merciful nature....