outubro 26, 2009


‘I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree…’ Joyce Kilmer 1913.

Indigenous of tropical lands,
Climes that nurture your growth.
Throughout the year you are as any ordinary tree
With fern-like leaves and hard dark wood
You stand and pray amongst the many greens of trees.

There is a moment, a season, oh all too brief
When, in tune with regal sky, you are queen of all.
When with a hue of purple blue
You bloom in true,
Revelation of your royal beauty.

Sharing your joy, in this your season
Of mauve clouds and blossoms falling to the ground.
Scattered, as confetti in festive mood
And celebration. You make your presence known.
To touch and peace be found.

Alas the pageantry and feast is over soon
With azure, amethyst gown cast aside;
We mortals await the seasons’ round,
That annual blaze of glory, a divine experience
Which never ceases to enchant.

‘Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.’
Joyce Kilmer ,1913

by Jo Peggy

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