Trees

This was DJ's first full week at college.  He came home Friday night and we ate Chinese, played with the dogs and watched movies.  DJ spent the night and when he woke up the next morning he said to me, "Mom, you know what I miss the most about home?"
I'm thinking - his bed, hanging with me, home cooked meals, the dogs...
"I miss the sound of the trees.  The wind blowing through the trees."
I should have named that boy Joyce (as in the poet, Joyce Kilmer).

 

Trees

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.

Joyce Kilmer