Wherever I wake I find a special tree, a tree among trees, one who stands out among the others by virtue of height or location or shape, a tree who sings to me in the morning.
Most often that tree is a pine, both because I live in Georgia and because I love the way pines lift their branches up to the sky.
Is it prayer?
Is it song?
Is it exultation?
Yes!
It is.
Good Morning, Tree
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