This is not an official blog of the City. It is the work of Mark Kapel who is solely responsible for content.

Search This Blog

Sunday, May 12, 2013

In Spring In the City of Bloomfield Hills There Will Always be Purple Trees.





I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.





No comments: