Elul 22
I think that I shall
never see
A poem lovely as a
tree.
A tree whose hungry
mouth is prest
Against the sweet
earth's 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.
(Joyce Kilmer)
My earliest memories
of poetry and of gratitude for nature live in this poem. Kilmer’s
observations and simple appreciation touched mine; I have, ever since, been moved by the very presence of
trees. To me trees are constant reminders and symbols of pure creation.
e.e. cummings communicates
this and more when he writes:
i thank You God for
most this amazing
day: for the leaping
greenly spirits of trees
and a blue dream of
sky;and for everything
which is natural
which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am
alive again today,
and this is the sun's
birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love
and wings;and of the gay
great happening
ilimitably earth)
how should tasting
touching hearing seeing
breathing any -
lifted from the no
of all nothing -
human merely being
doubt unimaginable
You?
(now the ears of my
ears awake and
now the eyes of my
eyes are opened)
These words,
themselves, and the encounter with the grandeur of creation they suggest, are a
meditation for these days of Elul. This,
alone, can return us with gratitude to a sense of appreciation and gratitude
for everything.
The prayer of Reb
Nachman offers another lovely way to pause, reflect, and be grateful as we return - to nature, to creation, to God:
God, grant me the
ability to be alone!
May it be my custom
to go outdoors each day among the trees and grass
among all growing
things,
and there may I be
alone,
and enter into
prayer,
to talk with the One
to whom I belong.
May I express there
everything in my heart,
and may all the
foliage of the field
all grasses, trees
and plants awaken at my coming,
to send the powers of
their life into the words of my prayer
so that my prayer and
speech are made whole
through the life and
the spirit of all growing things,
which are made as one
by their transcendent Source.
May I then pour out
the words of my heart
before your Presence
like water, God,
and lift up my hands
to You in song,
(Adapted from Likutey
Moharan, Part I, # 52)
Rabbi Jim Bennett
Every tree is itself a poem: confined to the form of fractal formation, yet unique from all other trees. Each tree knows its relation to earth, to sky, and to all the other trees around it. Trees give with no expectation of return. Did they have to smell so good? Did their leaves have to turn such beautiful colors in Autumn? No, but I'm so glad they do these things.
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