by Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Thanks for joining me for a poetry recitation delivered among tall trees. I recorded “Trees” using my cell phone that was attached to a tree branch. I am probably not the first person to talk to a tree in these lands. 😂
The winding road is scenic and slow and has led me to many places where my thoughts and words can freely flow. For nine days my book project and I have been traveling and evolving along this road. A range of emotions shared again and again; we have become intimate friends. Each place we visit, where I sit and write, has a different charm, a different vibe. Whether it be a quiet hilltop, a jazz-playing coffee shop, a park tabletop, a bench near the river’s edge, or a quiet library desk, each place offers my eyes a place to gaze when looking up from another turned page.
More tunes enjoyed along the winding road. The band, Sol Seed, playing, “Family Tree.” How can you not enjoy the sound of a didgeridoo?
Thank you for visiting and listening. Enjoy your weekend. Be well. 💗 Michele
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Photos: My images
© 2021 Michele Lee Sefton.