“I think that I shall never see.
A poem as lovely as a tree…”
Not so much for my classmates, however, who rolled their eyes at the poem’s simplicity, snickered at the words “breast” and “bosom” featured within its stanzas (which seriously was sort of funny) and brutally poked fun (as only the merciless, stealth precision of a 6th grader can do) at the male poet’s female name - Joyce. Ugh.
While this lovely little poem had a ton of stumbling blocks for me and my pubescent-age friends, I somehow managed to dreamily gaze out a classroom window and imagine myself sitting under the leafy tree the poet had described. (In a poof - I was gone.)
When I was a preschooler, three gigantic Cottonwood Trees in my yard marked the farthest edge of my young world and provided an exciting destination for me and my friends. About those magical days - it's safe to say there was no end to the epic adventures we created together.
"Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest." And the boy did. And the tree was happy." ~ Shel Silverstein, The Giving Tree
The fluffy white seed pods these giant trees released every summer not only covered my yard with a snow-like white cotton, but also our neighbors’ yards for as far as my little self could see. Sometimes, I’d actually burrow under these big piles of puffy softness and completely disappear. Again, just like that – poof & gone.
But that was a long time ago, a forgotten childhood game and memory until years later when my preschool-age daughter experienced her own tree magic.
Indeed it was a Snowy Day in May. Thousands of falling flowers had covered her and the ground with a fragrant blanket of pink wonder - much like the cotton puffs that had covered me years earlier.
And as I quietly admired the beautiful tree on that warm spring day, there it was again >> the beginning of Joyce Kilmer’s poem playing over and over in my head.
Meet Some Inspiring Jeffrey Woods Trees
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
Coming Soon: Spring