Trees

I THINK that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,	5
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.	10
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.                                    --Joyce Kilmer

I wonder what lives inside? 

An Acorn Woodpecker?

Maybe an Owl? 

It could be a Squirrel.

It's too far up for me to climb, 

so I think I'll have to wait and see.