The first poem I fell in love with hung on the wall in my Nana’s house. It hung there all my life, so I most likely fell in love with it soon after learning to read, around the age of 7 or so. It hung on the stairway wall on the left hand side, six verses separated into three frames so you read the poem in stages going up the stairs.
I have loved poetry ever since and the power in the brevity of words (although I recognize that some poems can be quite long). I don’t mind admitting that I am a total poetry novice. I like what I like, have written very little of it, and had one poem published in a poetry challenge by Rosebud Magazine.
Each day begins for me with a poem delivered to my inbox from Writers Almanac. It’s a way for me to start my day with thoughts outside of myself, a glimpse into a moment for someone else, and sometimes, that magical connection that happens when reading it is like looking into a mirror.
I only knew one of my grandparents and I didn’t have a very strong connection to the one I knew. But I never think of my love for poetry and this poem in particular, that I don’t think of Nana with love and appreciate the gift she gave me.
TREES
by: Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)
I THINK that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet 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.
