The Weeping Tree

The Weeping Tree
By Mary Naylor

The nursery was full of trees,
Grown in containers from tiny seeds,
Swaying on slender, sliver, stalks,
All types of trees grew beside the walk.

Little Ann got to choose a tree.
She looked and looked - which shall it be?
There were flower trees, some trees with fruit,
She could care for one, she could do it!

There - that tree - with no fruit or flowers,
With its branches that drooped like jade showers,
Weeping shimmering tears into the air,
That wafted to heaven, heavy with prayer.

by Mary Naylor

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