In a meadow soft and sunny,
stood a tree so sweet and funny.
Every spring she dressed in white,
flowers blooming pure and bright.
Buzzing bees came zipping through,
sharing pollen—golden dew.
Each small flower felt a tickle,
something tiny, soft, and fickle.
Soon her blossoms closed up tight,
turning green in morning light.
Little apples, round and growing,
on her branches, softly showing.
“I’m expecting!” laughed the tree.
“Look at all the life in me!”
All summer long she proudly swayed,
in her leafy nursery’s shade.
When the apples blushed and gleamed,
just as every tree had dreamed,
they fell and rolled and tumbled round,
spreading babies on the ground.
Now each seed beneath the sky
dreams of reaching just as high—
for every tree, both big and small,
was once a seed who dreamed it all.
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Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: October 22nd, 2025 04:19
- Comment from author about the poem: When my then 5-year-old niece asked how fruit was made, I told her it comes from pregnant plants. That lead to this poem
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Priya Tomar
Offline)
Comments2
I have herd the analogy many times but never quite like this. Told as if to a small child it gleams with bright energy and bouncing joy of a child. A lovely and most refreshing version of the old story told with wonderful rhyme
The pride of any nursery wall.
You should do a series.......
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