This wonderful poem gives me the pretext of inviting you to respect nature and trees. I love trees. Please treat them with respect.
The tree has entered my hands,
the sap has ascended my arms,
the tree has grown in my breast – downward,
the branches grow out of me, like arms.
Tree you are, moss you are,
you are violets with wind above them.
A child – so high – you are,
and all this is folly to the world.
“A girl” by Ezra Pound