Oh, Joyce

PoetryForm:Apostrophe Oh, Joyce (A salute to Joyce Kilmer) How could you know of molten skies burning my skin to fiery glow as trails of sweat ran ever down, except to walk the same hard row? You must have lifted flaming face to catch the waft of cooling flow as leaves stirred air upon your neck bent down to guide the whack of hoe. You must have stood beneath its arms and held your frame secure inside a shade cast out by wide-swept limbs to draw sweet breath upon a sigh. Your pictured trees bespoke my heart your words remained a lifelong song. Each time I viewed a splendid tree came once again warm thoughts of thee. Though faith is rare in Darwin’s sphere your message still rings loud and clear. Poems are made by fools like me but only God can make a tree.