THE INJURED TREE

High on a hill a bent plum tree, lies half prone, where it started free,

A lightening bolt from a windblown board, bowed it low where the damage scored.

Its neighbors proud, stately and prim, towered above with their branches trim.

Yet a special charm embraces the eye, as hopeful branches their leaves hold high.

Summer will pass and a message tell, how a child can reach its fruit so well.

Its sturdy bole - a fine seat make, so handy to reach when its fruit we take.

What may have seemed like a mishap grim, has risen to bloom with hope from within.

Spreading its beauty and service free, a special delight - like no other near tree.

A message to all, soft breezes will tell, Its sturdy root still nourishes well.

The sun and the rain no favorites show, As small birds fly to branches so low.

Small children can reach its fruit so well, to share with their friends or even to sell.

"Don't feel sad that this plum tree fell, we can now reach its fruit, the children all tell."