ENJOY

MY OLD HICKORY POEM (Carya Glabra)

Awkward arching gray-grained trunk,

bent to the whims of nature,

bearing nuts for squirrels,

and leaves that float in a breeze

of golden rain at Christmastime,

covering the deck like snow.

Wood like iron but soft to the touch,

for a tool handle, or a wagon spoke.

The Hickory, tree of reckoning.

By J French

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