A tree stands in the dusk, A big tree. In the dusk It is dark, When others pass by, And the questions come.

What do you think of When the winds stir your patience, Your bones, your roots? What do you whisper to the birds That alight upon your arms?

A big tree, watchful, Fills the dark with flesh, With light, With a blush of knowing What the long days bring.

• Carl Sandburg