The Prayer of the Tree
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You who pass by and would raise your hand against me,
hearken ere you harm me.

I am the heat of your hearth on the cold winter night,
the friendly shade screening you from the summer sun.

And my fruits are refreshing draughts quenching your thirst
as you journey on.

I am the beam that holds your house, the board of your table,
the bed on which you lie,
the timber that builds your boat.

I am the handle of your hoe, the door of your homestead,
the wood of your cradle,
the shell of your last resting place.

I am the gift of God and the friend of man.

You who pass by, listen to my prayer, HARM ME NOT.
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I found this prayer typed on a piece of folded paper in a book of trees.
I like it, as did the person who first put it there. Does anyone know
who wrote it?

M.R.