Yesterday I took the last walk of the year on the back acreage. As I walked through the stand of tree’s I pictured them as “nature’s sentinels”.
In later years as life subsides, I found a place where treasurers lie. In years of your, these giants grew from stem to branch then trunks of hue. I diligently cleaned above their roots so I could safely walk and look.
I pictured all the various trees as folks that I had chanced to read. There was Betsy Ross in her birchy dress and General Grant in his chesty pine giving orders to his union nine. To the left and on a bit of a rise stood Chamberlain as he held the line, and as I entered a small ravine a cluster of maples made their charge with General Pickard holding up his arm.
In a natural amphitheater spot a tall oak tree stood, in afterthought. I knew at once as I gazed in awe. “This was President Lincoln’s spot.”
They are beautiful in their peace. They are wise in their silence. They will stand after we are dust.
“They teach us, and we tend them.”
As I gaze with much array, I saw the men of my brigade. So when my thought do wander off, that’s where I go to take a walk.
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