Make Me A Tree

            The lake is quiet right now. With no noise from campers or click of my radio all I can hear is the wind rippling over the shallow water, and the occasional buss of a dragonfly. My sunburn itches and my fingernails are filthy with red clay, but the day is so still; it doesn’t seem like a problem. Sitting on this half broken bench I look at the trees before me. Each one, massive, bordering the soft cloudless blue sky. They draw me in. Tall beyond understanding, alive beyond comprehension and beautiful beyond words, so deeply rooted and pointing so high to the sky. I want to be like a tree, God. Like a big, enormous, strong, beautiful, deeply rooted tree. A tree that is alive, and fixed solely on growing to the heavens. A tree whose limbs point not only up, but also out, and gently entangles with others around it. I want to be a tree amongst trees. A forest, a community of trees that whisper your splendor as the wind passes through them. I bask in your glory, which right now for me, is looking at trees. It’s funny to know that you are a creator and a perfect, perfect designer. You make beautiful things. Period. Raise me up to be a tree, oh God.