January 4, 2014

A poem about trees

Some images emerge with clarity from the fog of childhood
Stately hickory, maple, and ash casting shadows of reprieve
from the warm Connecticut summer

But, as the saying goes, these too shall pass
as the child kneels in a pile of woodchips
and vows to once again pierce the sky with the softening canopy
of bough and leaf

So, as the snows settle in and the soil freezes deep
the child, and the children of children
anticipate those warm Connecticut days
when three traveled apple trees will take root
and cast their first spindly shadows upon the world.

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