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Sweetgum
by Glenn Currier
In her dust we played kick the can
vainly hoping we could hide
behind her ample girth
palms on her flaky skin
for support and balance.
Curled at her feet
I sobbed lamenting the lie
"Your words will never hurt me"
her brown mass
listening and present.
She dropped a prickly gumball
bouncing my self pity
into a smile and a scheme
those balls became ammo
hurled at that meany with abandon.
In her coolness
caressed by her breeze
we strained our limbs on her's,
confident in the strength
she stretched into our little lives.
One summer I trekked back
for a splash of her joy
but in her space a home
children with automated toys
and no tree for kick the can. 02/10/2006 Posted on 02/10/2006
Copyright © 2026 Glenn Currier
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 02/10/06 at 10:16 PM Your "Sweetgum" is my childhood crabapple tree... I wonder if it's still there, although it will always be on that hill in my memory. Thanks Glenn.
~Chelle~ |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/10/06 at 11:10 PM I love their star-shaped leaves and intense fall color. There is something awful about losing such a big part of the landscape. |
| Posted by Mara Meade on 02/10/06 at 11:45 PM How I love Sweet Gum trees...mostly because of my youth, though I love the shape and feel of the gumballs. I'm sorry you lost "her" though... this made the poem very poignant, indeed. |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 02/12/06 at 05:03 AM Sometimes it's impossible to go back. (S-i-g-h)
Great poem Glenn....Charlie |
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