Elms, Oak, and Sycamore

By Constance Rigley

Elms, oak, and sycamore,
Is it that you're brave?
When you choose to shed your masks
And for the truth you trade?

Trees, when you are naked –
Revealing all your years,
Do you know you're beautiful,
That you have no fears?

Elms, oak, and sycamore,
It is you that I admire.
I'm jealous of your honesty,
Of you I'll never tire.

Trees, it is the autumn,
That I can hear you sigh
Unbuckle your girdle, loves,
Your beauty makes me cry.