The prayer of the tree

Anon

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 summer sun,
And my fruits are refreshing draughts
quenching your thirst as your 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 you
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 and

Harm me not