Money Doesn't Grow on Trees

At daybreak sauntering along a blind,
My eyes were drawn to something odd behind
the silver gates there, giving off a sheen,
a soaring tree with leaves of grayish-green.
I saw...but no!  It can't be that...it can't!
That Mr. Andrew Jackson?  Franklin...Grant?
Saw thousands of them swaying in the breeze.
Let's go, dad said, money don' grow on trees!