TREES
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lm treesand the leaf the boy in me hatedlong ago--rough and sandy. Poplarsand their leaves,tender, smooth to the fingers,and a secret in their smellI have forgotten. Oaksand forest glades,heart aching with wonder, fear:their bitter mast. Willowsand the scented beetlewe put in our handkerchiefs;and the roots of onethat spread into a river:nakedness, water and joy. Hawthorn,white and odorous with blossom,framing the quiet fields,and swaying flowers and grasses,and the hum of bees. Oh, these are the things that are with me now,in the town;and I am gratefulfor this minute of my manhood.
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