Poem: Consider the trees

Nature is not about perfection

Consider the trees:
They have lumps, and angles, and knobby bits
Places where a branch did not grow right
They are not perfectly symmetrical
See-- there is mathematics to them
But the organic sort of mathematic
Nothing rigid or unrealistic

Nature is not about permanence

Consider the trees:
The ones that year after year produce leaves
Only to have them die and fall away
And yet year after year it continues
And all trees grow and change
And in the end, die

And yet there is beauty to it all
To the scars and blemishes and rough awkward edges
And the sprawl of branches that fork and twist
To the bright newness of spring leaves, the sweet fragrance of blossoms
And the rich colors of autumn, the rustling dance of falling leaves
To branches that show skeleton-bare against the winter sky
And branches that hide from the summer sun in garb of fluttering green

Consider the trees
For they are never ashamed
Of what they are