Sycamore
I never thought I would ever see
A sycamore as lovely as poetry.
Her crown is full of squirrels’ nests
And in her hair the swallows' rest;
Skyward she looks toward the sun
And waves her arms at everyone,
Her branches in winter barren be
And still, her beauty appeals to me;
I suppose they’d never cut her down
Our whole neighborhood would frown,
Stately she stands in winter’s cold
And I write this poem, ever so bold.
Written November 18, 2022
[a parody of "Trees" by Joyce Kilmer
and a tip of the hat to his memorable,
but not so celebrated poem.]
Copyright © L Milton Hankins | Year Posted 2022
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