I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
--Joyce Kilmer
I love to walk. My favorite place to walk is the the Noland Trail. It is over five miles of nature at its best. It is my time to walk, reflect, unwind and to be alone. Each time I am reminded of Joyce Kilmer's poem we had to memorize in fourth grade and how we giggled as we said the words "breast" and "bosom." Looking at this poem now, in the context of trees, I'm still just a bit uncomfortable with it.
There is a monument along my trail with the words "I am taller today because I have walked among the trees." My first thought is, "No, I'm not. I'm hot, sweaty, tired and thirsty, but I'm not taller."
But on a nobler thought, let me describe my walks. I love the quietness of walking this trail. There are plenty of people along the way. Some walk, some jog, some even run. The trail is a dirt trail, but is well kept. There are tall trees, short trees, scrubby trees and fallen trees. Birds and squirrels abound.
The trail and nature park surround a lake. There are 17 bridges to cross as you wind your way around the lake. The lake is full of turtles. Slimy, nasty turtles. And you can occasionally see a fish break the surface of the water or swim under a bridge. I saw a snake swim through the water one time and yet, I still walk the trail.
People walk their dogs on the trail. The dogs are supposed to always be on leashes, but, of course, many people think their dogs are so well behaved that it does not apply to them. It does. And they should obey the rules. I hate when their well-behaved dogs run up and sniff me. One of those well-behaved dogs bit the woman in front of me last year.
Sometimes its a little creepy. If I walk in the late afternoons, I find the forest gets darker quicker than the parking lot. As the shadows lengthen and the hikers thin out, the imagination swells and there are predators of the the human and animal persuasion behind each tree...not really, but I can almost see them.
But, wait! I said I love these walks and I do. Just the sounds of the breeze rustling the leaves. The birds singing, the squirrels running through the underbrush. I see people with their ipods and we nod as we pass on the trail. No conversation necessary. The nod says all that needs to be said. I step to the side as I hear a jogger overtaking me from behind. Lovers stroll. Families walk together. Friends chat and gossip. Sometimes I like my ipod. Other times I like my thoughts. I like to pray or reflect. OR I like to do none of the above. I just walk.
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
--Joyce Kilmer
I love to walk. My favorite place to walk is the the Noland Trail. It is over five miles of nature at its best. It is my time to walk, reflect, unwind and to be alone. Each time I am reminded of Joyce Kilmer's poem we had to memorize in fourth grade and how we giggled as we said the words "breast" and "bosom." Looking at this poem now, in the context of trees, I'm still just a bit uncomfortable with it.
There is a monument along my trail with the words "I am taller today because I have walked among the trees." My first thought is, "No, I'm not. I'm hot, sweaty, tired and thirsty, but I'm not taller."
But on a nobler thought, let me describe my walks. I love the quietness of walking this trail. There are plenty of people along the way. Some walk, some jog, some even run. The trail is a dirt trail, but is well kept. There are tall trees, short trees, scrubby trees and fallen trees. Birds and squirrels abound.
The trail and nature park surround a lake. There are 17 bridges to cross as you wind your way around the lake. The lake is full of turtles. Slimy, nasty turtles. And you can occasionally see a fish break the surface of the water or swim under a bridge. I saw a snake swim through the water one time and yet, I still walk the trail.
People walk their dogs on the trail. The dogs are supposed to always be on leashes, but, of course, many people think their dogs are so well behaved that it does not apply to them. It does. And they should obey the rules. I hate when their well-behaved dogs run up and sniff me. One of those well-behaved dogs bit the woman in front of me last year.
Sometimes its a little creepy. If I walk in the late afternoons, I find the forest gets darker quicker than the parking lot. As the shadows lengthen and the hikers thin out, the imagination swells and there are predators of the the human and animal persuasion behind each tree...not really, but I can almost see them.
But, wait! I said I love these walks and I do. Just the sounds of the breeze rustling the leaves. The birds singing, the squirrels running through the underbrush. I see people with their ipods and we nod as we pass on the trail. No conversation necessary. The nod says all that needs to be said. I step to the side as I hear a jogger overtaking me from behind. Lovers stroll. Families walk together. Friends chat and gossip. Sometimes I like my ipod. Other times I like my thoughts. I like to pray or reflect. OR I like to do none of the above. I just walk.
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