Childhood Tree
Childhood Tree
(severe criticism is invited, welcomed, and urged)
He was supposed to be there still
when I returned in forty years.
But a boy's home town
is metamorph and tolerates
old maples patiently until
old homes come down; new ones rise.
I'm glad I wasn't there the day
he could no longer kiss
the sky, but fell and shuddered
on the earth, and bled in green.
Though not unique, this grandiose
old fellow was my first true friend;
I mourned him more than any human
that I knew, and though I hold
no faith in spirit trees, I was aware
when I came back, of his success
in taking part of me along.
It is forever I have lost
the sostenuto of his loyallty.
Forever that his thunder of lament
is still--in heaven's now, perhaps,
or in the glade of hell.
~
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