Quiet trees stand vigil, towering over the ground;
Looking down at everyone as they step around.
They watch and wait while we wander
through all of the beaten down paths.

The last day of May brings their budding near;
to give green hope, to those we held dear.
At the top of the hill she stops, to peer down the slope
The wind has stopped, and no leaves rattle

It's quiet and silent, except for slow breathing
None of us have caught up, excepting one.
What does she see, to stop so?
A colorless day, but bright all the same

The tall guardians gaze upon all, but never move
Providing their constant, comforting boon.
They speak to one another, to tell, to say,
We'll stand the watch, nevermore worry.

It is your time to rest, so be on your way.