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I think that I shall never see, A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed, Against the earths sweet flowing breast A tree that looks at God all day 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. Poems are made by folks like me, But only God can make a tree.

from All That Is Interesting

The Pristine Piuva Tree Of Brazil

As if Brazil didn’t already have a lot to offer, how about adding a stunning purple tree to the mix?