Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Joyce and Me
Maybe because it's spring, snippets of poetry keep popping into my head. Are kids still required to learn poetry in school these days? I remember being surprised to find that Joyce Kilmer was a man (that was before I learned that Marion Morrison was The Duke). Mary had a little lamb, Longfellow, Tennyson, Chaucer (Chaucer was pretty bawdy, especially when taught by Sr. Marie Antoinette!), working my way up to Ginsberg and Ferlinghetti. e e cummings drove me nuts with his lack of capitalization and punctuation. But I digress.
Trees play such a big role in my life here. (I much prefer them standing upright than falling down.) This lacy oak, just hit with early morning sun, is such a beauty. That "lace" is not leaves; long fronds of pollen are the bane of allergy sufferers. I don't understand the tree's need for pollen as these oaks propagate by acorns. I'm not affected by allergies, but the sticky green stuff floats through the air and coats the truck and everything else. The first round of pick-up-sticks will begin soon to clear the yards for mowing. Mountains of leaves need to be raked. Birds of all sizes and varieties fill the branches. The shade provides blessed relief in the heat of summer, and logs give heat in winter. Conversion of carbon dioxide to oxygen keeps us and the earth alive. And they are beautiful...more lovely than a poem.