Pin It

Poem: Poplar 

I say I don’t mind you are dying.
True, you are still mine—tall,
towering, easy over the farm and valley.

None of the oak’s sober majesty
nor the doomed elm’s lithe grace,
not even the tidy graciousness of the maple,
you are of less account, weedy poplar.

Tongue of my longing:
Restless pivots, your leaves rattle
in summer as much as in fall;
leaves that shudder
hilarious before the storm.

And, upwards you go
when all around is crosswise.
Guardian, come down slowly.

  • A poem by Amy White

Comments

Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

Readers also liked…

Hudson Valley Events

submit event
Standing Rock on Hudson II @ Boughton Place

Standing Rock on Hudson II

Mon., Feb. 20, 9 a.m.-5 p.m. — Standing Rock on Hudson II: Standing Together for the Hudson River, For...
Jungle Book KIDS Workshop @ White Plains Performing Arts Center

Jungle Book KIDS Workshop

Mon., Feb. 20, 10 a.m.-4 p.m. — Mowgli, Baloo and King Louie too are coming to the White Plains...

View all of today's events

Latest in Poetry

Hudson Valley Tweets