Young Trees

New life is rising
From the seeds that came.
A cry for food and air,
Their hands
Go high toward the sky.

Green hair appearing
On their bald heads,
Such wanders,
That are hard to understand,
They are so close to us.

They do not have to be old
To impress us with their skills.
They are as good as us
Their fruits of hard work
Before we have a beard.