Alone, cultivated, we rest trim
knowing ourselves to be unique
whether in field or forest,
a tree of another color.

And while we can change
to the frost of the seasons
and winds of world's summers,
we cannot move to be
something we are not.

We are proud to lend shade
and fruit, and breath to clouds.
We support, and screen and beautify
and we are, simply,
trees of other colors.

Inspired title of 'Needle Beneath The Conifer' book, written during 1978-1994

Trees of Other Colors painting that accompanies this poem (click image to view larger) ~This painting is not available for purchase