I walk down the street And see A winter-weary tree. He’s someone I’d like to meet, With so many roots for feet. He goes to sleep for months, You know, Then he puts on a bright green show. His gal pal lost an arm once, And now people climb her for hunts. I happened upon some saplings here And there. With their youth, we started to cheer; For the loss of trees is such a scare, I would rather encounter a big brown bear. I am finding it out to be, There is much beauty in a tree!