By Greg Wilson

Beneath a tree

Sunshine warm on our backs

A lush green hue pervades the conversation

We agree, this is a gentle forgiving land.

The hills with the remnants of their cloak

Standing guard as of long ago

Watching the rivers, the coast

Borders of the riches stretched redolent in the sun.

We agree, on this at least

If ever there was a place where work has a reward

Then it is here.

Those before left their mark for us

As guide or warning

Be it a people, a generation, a field or a garden

A spear, a plough or a derrick

Which side of the tree we stand determines our view.

We agree, about the tree

Let it stand, for it was here before us all.


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