I think that I shall never see . . .

. . . a poem lovely as a tree." Certainly not as lovely as this one. I have walked by it a hundred times, and have stood in its shade, but I had never noticed its marvelous shape and scale until I sat having lunch across the street and saw it framed in this archway. From this angle I saw how wide its reach is compared to its slender trunk, and how thick its crown. I defy anyone to compare the engineering of the skyscrapers that surround it with the efficiency of its design. 

Joyce Kilmer ends his deceptively simple poem on an admirable note of modesty: "Poems are made by fools like me,/But only God can make a tree." True enough, but I suspect we fools had something to do with choosing this species for this unnatural setting and nurturing it. We have our moments of wisdom.