How well I remember the moment -- it still brings tears to my eyes. One verse:
"So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.
Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River."
Rivers -- water of life. The Lord -- Water of Life. Psalm 1:3 speaks of the individuals who are rooted in Him. They are strong, like a tree planted by a river. The tree produces fruit in season, and its leaves don't die. Everything they do will succeed. NCV
I've always liked trees, have many memories of being under the old oak trees on my Grandmother's farm Oak Lawn. Playing pretend tea-parties under the willow tree at Aunt Minerva's. The only card of mine that Stampin Up put on its Stamper's Showcase back in 1997 features a tree.
A few years after Maya Angelou spoke eloquently at Clinton's Inauguration, she came to Knoxville. A group of us took some students. I sat by Sakina. She was literally bouncing up and down in her seat spreading her enthusiasm throughout the theater.
Tuesday, we'll see another poet, Elizabeth Alexander, give her inaugural poem. My friend, Julie, tells more about her at Seven Impossible Things before Breakfast. One excerpt:
“…Poetry is what you find
in the dirt in the corner,
overhear on the bus, God
in the details, the only way
to get from here to there…”
God is in the details.