Orn’ry clouds, they paint the sky into a frightening sight. 

Although my mind is right at ease, my body seeks a flight. 

Well past the park, past lonesome fields, my eyes long to behold 

the work of God, his boasting hand: the trees on Bethel Road. 

 

My mind will not forget the time the trees first touched my gaze, 

or how the gleaming green on leaves were teased by hidden rays; 

or will I lose that awesome look of elms tow’ring so high, 

the brilliant blend of branches being bent and intertwined. 

 

The whirling wind began to chase the leaves that loved to sway; 

such jocund sight was quite a treat to close a summer’s day. 

The road swerved left, and through the trees, the sun returned to shine, 

so I drove on towards the light, and left the trees behind.  

 

Sometimes I sit in quiet rooms and let my mind take hold 

upon that day in which my life was gifted by green-gold. 

So when my body wants to fly, I think on times of old, 

about the lives that stood so high, the trees on Bethel Road.