BY CHELSEA STATLER

Their arms upraised in silent praise,

Their backs upright in awe. 

Clad now in verdure raiment, 

they stand both straight and tall. 

Their feet are firmly planted,

come wind and storm and rain. 

Intent upon their worship

through seasons’ shifting change. 

Though trials maim or break them,

they do not give an inch. 

Their faces turned to far-off sky,

they do not fall or flinch. 

But if one day they falter, 

should troubles bring them down,

with lowered heads they’ll worship still,

backs bent in humble bow.