Oh, Joyce
PoetryForm:Apostrophe
Oh, Joyce
(A salute to Joyce Kilmer)
How could you know of molten skies
burning my skin to fiery glow
as trails of sweat ran ever down,
except to walk the same hard row?
You must have lifted flaming face
to catch the waft of cooling flow
as leaves stirred air upon your neck
bent down to guide the whack of hoe.
You must have stood beneath its arms
and held your frame secure inside
a shade cast out by wide-swept limbs
to draw sweet breath upon a sigh.
Your pictured trees bespoke my heart
your words remained a lifelong song.
Each time I viewed a splendid tree
came once again warm thoughts of thee.
Though faith is rare in Darwin’s sphere
your message still rings loud and clear.
Poems are made by fools like me
but only God can make a tree.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2015
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