I was so impressed by the old tree I talked about in my previous post that I couldn’t resist revisiting it.
In honor of National Poetry Month, a fragment of Wordsworth:
This solitary Tree! -a living thing
Produced too slowly ever to decay;
Of form and aspect too magnificent
To be destroyed.
(From Yew-Trees by William Wordsworth)
Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree.