Isha Lele, Laurel School, Kindergarten, Highland Heights
My Tree
My tree gives me food to eat.
My tree gives me oxygen to breath.
My tree gives me books to read.
My tree gives my piano a beat.
My tree gives me shade in heat.
My tree gives my house look neat.
My tree gives my swing to fly.
My tree helps the rain go by.
My tree is the friend I need!
Anthony Houston Jr., Emile B. Desauze School, 1st grade, Cleveland I love to see the trees
Begin to blossom in the spring.
They smell so fresh
As the birds chirps and sing.
While I walk through the park
And look up the tree.
It’s just a beautiful sight
For my eyes to see.
Planted from a shrub bush
That grows taller each year.
Oh how I can’t wait for
Summertime is here.
The leaves are all green
And provides plenty of shade.
I thank God for all
The wonderful trees he has made.
Kevin Mewhinney, Independence Primary School, 2nd grade, Independence Trees
Big, Leafy
Growing, Falling, Sprouting
Trees are the best.
Plant
Natalie Martin, Onaway, 3rd grade, Shaker Heights The Talking Tree
Oh, once I helped my mother plant a tiny tree
When I was only three.
But when we were finally finished it seemed to say wee!
But it was only the size of a pea.
Once I started talking it, it seemed to answer me.
Though I thought it was not real but it was talking to me.
I ran in to tell my mother but she did not believe.
But I still know inside that it was really talking right to me.
Betz Meluch, Sacred Heart Home Schoolers, 4th grade, University Heights In winter, the tree looks like a snowflake,
What a beautiful sight the snow can make!
In spring, the tree looks healthy and strong,
All around the birds sing their song.
In summer, the tree is hot and bright,
Shining down is the summer sun’s light.
In fall, the tree is colored yellow, orange, and brown,
I hope you have four seasons to see the trees in your town!
Maureen Millelsen, 5th grade,Westlake Please tell me
About the tree.
Animals have homes in tress.
Like tree toads, squirrels and bees.
Without the tree they’d have no home.
Instead upon the ground they’d roam.
The tree is home to cockatoo
To other birds, to me and you.
We use its wood to build our homes.
We use it to make garden gnomes.
So how you know about the tree,
And how, it helps out you and me
Kyle McPhillips, Hathaway Brown, 6th grade, Shaker Heights
Flower Buds on a Tree Top
Each little flower bud
Starting to grow
Is ready to find out
Everything it will know
Each tiny bud develops
In their own way
Different shapes, sizes, colors
Growing everyday
The branch that supports them
Is strong and steady
It will never let the buds go
Until they are ready
The flowers grow up
And now it’s time
To let go of the branch
And start its own line
The flowers are now
At the peak of their beauty
Now they must be responsible
Because it’s their duty
The flowers wiggles loose
And start falling down
But they are not alone
There are flowers all around
Some flower drop down
Incredibly fast
Their ride down from the branch
Didn’t really last
Now they’re on the ground
With nothing to do
They know there life went fast
Without a single clue
Other flowers are being
Carried by the air
A long swift ride
Which is not to rare
You see these flowers worked hard
To have this nice of a life
They worked hard for the wind
It was quite a strife
Some flowers lived well
Some lived fast
Some felt life
Was hard to grasp
The colors are fading
Time is gone
On the bright side more generations
Have begun
Pretty soon the wind
Will blow
Carry the flowers away
Who knows where they’ll go
Chelsea Rogers, St. Dominic School, 7th grade, Shaker Heights Tall Dark Trees
Tall dark trees fill the air.
Covering the misty blue sky.
It makes you want to look and stare.
Tall dark trees fill the air.
It makes you want to care,
About everything in the world.
Tall dark trees fill the air.
Covering the misty blue sky.
Sara Schirripa, Hillside Middle, 8th grade, Seven Hills
Trees
Leaves fall in many ways,
Drifting downward day by day,
Forming colorful mounds
Stacked high off the ground,
Like a mother lets go of her child,
The trees let their leaves into the wild,
Not knowing where they will land,
In the forest or the beaches sand,
Their life is a mystery,
Dating all through history,
Trees need you and me,
For they hold the key,
To life and bliss,
For if gone, the trees I will miss.
Yongjia Liu, Mayfield High School, 9th grade, Mayfield Village The Tree
There was a Tree that I once knew,
Tall and full of grace, it ruled the Hill,
And commanded my respect and admiration.
By day he stood,
Fierce protector of his Hill,
And all the grew upon him.
By night he stood also,
A true King of his own right,
Crowned by the Corona Borealis.
Monarch of all that he could see.
Sometimes, when the moon was dark,
We met at the edge of the forest,
And whispered tales and secrets,
Until the dawn broke over distant mountains.
Together, we counted the starts,
And told their Names and Stories.
Orion, brave hero of ancient Greece,
And Schtwathii, the first Tree,
Who leads the dead to Paradise.
He told me his Name,
A name no human tongue can ever possess,
A name life the sound of rustling leaves
On a windy autumn night.
I never told him mine,
For I knew he could not say it,
So he spoke of me,
As the Unnamed One.
I took him, once, to my room,
And showed him modern marvels,
Computer, Telephones, electric Lights,
Things he did not understand
And had no need of.
“Why do you require such,
When there is so much else in the world?”
“Listen!” he commanded, “to the night,
And the day, and the starts,
And the gurgling stream over the Hill!”
“Listen to the wind at night,
Whispering about the joy of Being.”
“is it not so very beautiful?”
He led me to his Hill,
And together we watched pale clouds
Float softly past the pallid moon
In an endless sea of night.
“See what you would not notice otherwise?”
And he led me through the forest
And named the trees as we passed them,
And told stories about the tree-folk.
“That Crabapple Tree fed a bandit for seventy days
Before the constables came;
The Baron Douglass, himself, chose a branch from that
Oak over for a cane in his old age.”
Sometimes we sand together,
Songs of interesting nothingness,
He in windy voice of all Tree-folk,
And I in the voice of people.
On the last night before I left for another country,
He held me tight against his board, smooth trunk,
And crooned song of the tree-folk into my ear.
He gently pressed into my hand,
Smooth round seeds to keep me company
And then we parted, for the last time,
As the brilliant, burning sun rose slowly o’er the forest.
I never saw him again.
Some time ago,
I planted those seeds in my garden,
And whispered them tales of the Tree-Folk,
And taught them to name the stars
And sing songs about interesting nothingness.
I told about a Tree I once knew,
A tall, majestic, noble Tree,
Whom I loved beyond comparison.
Who whispered secrets to me,
Until the dawn forced us apart,
In a place far away,
And a time long, long ago.
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