Being a tree

Emerging in haunts of cuckoo
Which wreathe the lawns
I sparkle out as the bijou
Clinging to nature's apron
With my exquisite green dress
I make the air remain ever fresh
With my twigs stretched,
They find an abode to rest.
My flowers-temple's offering
My fruits-really nourishing
But with onset of winter at town
My green dress perish down
The cuckoo, the huming bee
All desert me.
But grit as ever
Never do I waver
I pray 'mighty thee'
For a shower of rain,
To get my dress again.
Slowly and slowly
As I unfurl my viel
Of my everlasting trail,
I wear my green dress
To begin my life afresh...