The Poplar Tree

It’s a windy day, blue and sunny.

I have a head cold and sit in the sun

hoping to bake it out of my skull.

The sun tries its best with warming rays.

But the wind intervenes. It’s October.

The warm days of summer are behind me

and I pull on a sweater.

 

I can still feel the heat of the sun even

with the autumn wind.

Almost dozing, I surrender to the present…

the sun, the wind, the sounds, and the smells…

I have a chicken boiling in the pot. Soup is in my future.

I see the treetops swaying in the wind.

That takes me back to other windy days.

 

Years, a lifetime,  ago there was a singular

Poplar tree on the edge of a forgotten cornfield;

abandoned with old stubble and rabbit tracks,

and sometimes snakes when the weather was right.

That tree – not an old rigid tree – was

almost thirty feet tall and straight and strong

but still flexed nimbly in the wind.

 

The Poplar came equipped with low branches

perfect for an eight-year-old to climb.

An Adventurer, a Sailor, a Flying Wallenda!

It could be anything but on windy days

it was a Pirate ship and I was up in the rigging

swaying back and forth as the ship bounded

through the waves.

 

Squinting toward the horizon,

I search for unsuspecting Galleons full of treasure;

full of spices, gold, jewels and who knows what else.

Maybe even a damsel or two?

Yo-Ho and Ahoy!! Avast me hearties!!

Hold fast and turn her about! What do I spy?

It’s my mother – the chicken soup is ready.

2007-pirates-event2a

 

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