| A little seed is planted in some rich soil, |
| Then it starts to grow. |
| It grows an inch—slender and green. |
| It sprouts two buds that burst into leaves—tiny green leaves. |
| It grows bigger and fatter, bigger and fatter, and much taller. |
| It has gone from a seed to a tree. |
|
| In winter, it is quite bare, |
| For all its leaves have fallen. |
| It goes through the cold without a cloak. |
|
| Tiny green buds peek out from the branches, |
| They burst, and little green leaves emerge, |
| Just like when it was a sprout. |
| It is a time of remembrance. |
|
| A woodpecker comes to drill, drill, drill, |
| Leaving the tree looking like a giant's pegboard. |
|
| Red, orange, brown—the leaves do drop, |
| Leaving the tree bare, |
| But giving us something to jump in. |
|
| The tree has lived for many, many years. |
| It is now growing old, weak, and sick. |
| One Spring, its buds do not open. |
| It is now time for it to die. |
|
| Its roots rot, so it cannot stand. |
| It falls down. |
| Soon it is nothing but soil. |
|
| A little seed is dropped into a small hole |
| Dug in that rich soil. |
