In the poem, “Trees,” Joyce Kilmer spoke the truth: “I think I shall never see/A poem as lovely as a tree.”
Of all the living things I see, trees are my favorite. I mourn when one dies, and I cringe when someone cuts a living one down.
One of my favorite trees was a large mulberry that grew in the backyard of my childhood home.
It had perfect limbs for a climbing boy, and climb it I did. From high up in its branches, I could see forever. Of course for a boy, “forever” was not as far as it is for the man the boy became.