If I Could
'A wee poem' inspired by events concerning a Poet-Tree box recently
attached to, then removed from (by City decree), a tree in Old South
If I could I wood be a tree, perhaps a giant red wood
And live 1,000 years, with my head in the clouds.
If not a red wood then something rarer still
Like a coniferiduous or deciduonifer,
With both leaves and needles side by each,
Be green year round and laden with chestnuts.
I would welcome adventurous climbers,
Boys and girls on a swing,
Friends seeking shelter
And birds on the wing.
I would sing with the wind, always in tune,
Reach to the sun and howl with the moon.
I would act as a signpost, point east and west
Lend a hand to a gardener and squirrels in a nest.
I would act as a home for birds in a box,
Take a nail for a poem, hold a line for wet socks.
Really, if I could I wood be a tree,
Perhaps a giant red wood
Or something rarer still.
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Photos by GH