Working outside a little church one sweltering afternoon in June was a middle-aged man and three children. The oldest, a girl about twelve, worked steadily. But the younger two-boys who looked like twins but were not-paused in their work periodically to either squabble or complain about the heat.

Oh, look at that tree,
Much, much taller than me,
Reaching way up for the sky.

I looked at that tree,
So much taller than me,
Thinking ‘twas higher than high.

As I looked at that tree,
I wished dreamily
That up near the clouds I could fly.

Like a bird in that tree,
So much higher than me,
Seated in his nest, warm and dry.

While I walked by that tree,
I stumbled dazedly,