THE CEDAR TREE

A cedar tree grows in my yard, A cone of purest green, A tree of such rare beauty Few men have ever seen.

Her round strong base is tapered; Her top is sharp and trim. Her sides are smooth and perfect To the smallest needled limb.

And oftentimes I watch her as I sit beside my door. She sways in southern breezes like a dancer on the floor.

She doesn't mind the summer's heat or the winter winds that blow. When other trees are bare and brown, She's green out in the snow.

Each spring and then again each fall, when birds are on the fly, they rest on her thick branches when they are passing by.

I know she loves each Christmas, as she brightens up the nights. She spreads her part of Christmas cheer with all her Christmas lights.

'Tis such a shame to cut down trees each year at Christmas time. I wish each one would grow a tree and light it up like mine.

John L. Gwaltney