Poem by Bill Galvin
I like to drive from northern cold
In late winter or the early spring,
Down to warmer southern climes,
Where trees are already blossoming.
My sullen heart will get an early lift,
When I reach the middle states;
And see how Nature, south to north,
Sweetly shrugs off her winter weights.
White blossoms will accent forest edge,
And how yellow the early forsythia will be;
But, what moves me most, every time,
Is the bloom of the lovely redbud tree.
Pinkish-red flowers on long, lean branches,
It can take any shape it needs to be.
It can grow tall, and it can reach out wide,
But the flowers are what most impress me.
Those colors unique to the forest setting,
And none too numerous for one to see;
So, one is constantly on the lookout for
That one-of-a-kind, southern redbud tree.
Nature, in all its wondrous glory,
Has produced much prettier things, for sure;
But, something within me moves each time
I feel the flowering redbud tree's allure.
3-27-2016 (Wrentham, MA)
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