The New Forest

There upon the green hillside
A whole new forest I espied.
The trunks rise up so straight and true,
Giants framed against the blue.
But see, they bear no branch or leaf,
Instead, great arms beyond belief
That scrape the clouds as, arcing high,
They sweep across the summer sky.
Some will say that you’re a blight.
An abomination in their sight.
Though I can't compare thee to a tree
I think perhaps you'll grow on me!

Terry Watkins