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I’m tempted to say these trees belong to me,
take credit for blossoms that gather sunrise
like stained glass windows,
because eighteen springs ago
I dug holes for a couple of scrawny seedlings,
spread their roots in a bed of manure,
watered them, supported them with stakes and twine
until the saplings could stand alone in the wind.
But now, the flowering crabs in my yard,
like grown children, have business of their own,
bumblebees to feed,
and small sour balloons to inflate
by the time autumnal flocks
of robins and cedar waxwings
come to them for sustenance.
My reward is in the way my eyes
gorge on brilliant blossoms,
the sweet aroma my nose inhales
like a rich dessert
in a restaurant for the senses.
© by Larry Schug.
Used with the author’s permission.
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Larry Schug, after a work life of various kinds of manual labor and learning, is retired—a career he says he was born for. Author of eight collections of poetry (the most recent is A Blanket of Raven Feathers, from North Star Press), Larry is a volunteer writing tutor at the Writing Center at the College of St. Benedict and a volunteer naturalist at Outdoor U. at St. John's University. He lives with his wife, dog, and three cats near a large tamarack bog in St. Wendel Township, Minnesota.
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Jo:
This poem, Larry, is so much more than its beautiful lines. I have read and re-read it, and find it profound and worth lingering on.
Thank you.
Posted 05/25/2013 05:52 PM
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TheSilverOne:
Loved this...the comparison to children...all of it!
Posted 05/25/2013 03:27 PM
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CamilleBalla:
I have four of these flowering crab trees that just finished blooming days ago. Their blooms only last about a week so I try not to travel during that time so I can take in all their beauty and inhale their fragrance. Thanks to your poem, I will be watching for the named birds in the autumn and may learn something about birds, too.
Posted 05/25/2013 02:43 PM
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marenomitchell:
YUM! Thanks for this delicious poem!
Posted 05/25/2013 12:16 PM
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Wilda Morris:
And what of this earth do we really own? This is a profound and beautiful poem.
Posted 05/25/2013 11:37 AM
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Ralph Murre:
I sometimes think there's nothing more to say about trees, blossoms, love. Thanks for proving me wrong, and for doing it with such eloquence and elegance.
Posted 05/25/2013 11:32 AM
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Janet Leahy:
I love the "business of their own" that these trees must attend to. Wonderful poem, thanks, Larry.
Posted 05/25/2013 09:07 AM
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Katrina:
I like this. Years ago I planted a grape vine in a rainstorm and am now turning water into wine.
Posted 05/25/2013 05:24 AM
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