Explore Poems GO!

Planting Trees

Our last connection with the mythic.
My mother remembers the day as a girl
she jumped across a little spruce
that now overtops the sandstone house
where still she lives; her face delights
at the thought of her years translated
into wood so tall, into so mighty
a peer of the birds and the wind.

Too, the old farmer still stout of step

treads through the orchard he has outlasted
Read More

Saturday, October 25, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: tree
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM