Looking out the windows, seeing trees beckoning shyly
here inside.
Major varieties of them, all standing about, some regal,
some bent with age, but all are alive and vibrant, set
in their spaces of life and holding on to promises of
God.
Leaves gently waving and moving in time with silent
rhythms that I can see, as they ponder their purposes
in the scheme of things.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem