The Miracle Of The Trees

I would walk everyday, among the trees, Ever so slowly, as if in a dream. Amidst the divine scent, and the honeybees, Enraptured forever, or so it seemed. To smell the sweet scent of paradise, The blossoms on the emerald green. Underneath the Rio Grande Valley skies, Leaves wet with dew, in a lustrous sheen. And those sweet blossoms, would grow all year, Until they matured, deep in the fall. They grew into beautiful orange spheres, Just like so many golden balls. And then I would slice one with my knife, And tasted the miracle of the trees. Those were the best times of my life, Eating valley navels, in the morning breeze.