A Precious Gift

If you know me, you know I'm an avid garage sale shopper, and you've also heard me say that 100 times. :) You just never know what you'll find at a garage sale.  That's why I so enjoy them.

A few weeks ago, I found this little treasure:

http://www.amazon.com/Favorite-Childhood-Childrens-Thrift-Classics/dp/0486270890

When I perused it's pages upon returning home, several little ditties jumped out at me, many of which I had heard my grandparents recite as a child.  One of them was the poem, "Trees," by Joyce Kilmer.

Trees

I think that I shall never see

A poem so lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day, 

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that in Summer may wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who  intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me, 

But only God can make a tree. 

I told my grandma about the book yesterday, and she promptly quoted the above from memory.  There's something absolutely wonderful about being able to share such a joy with one's grandmother.  Generations separate us, but a beautifully written word joins us seamlessly.  What a precious gift.