top of page
John McIlwain
City Trees
Are city trees sad
When their seeds fall
On barren soil?
Each year the same,
No little ones nearby.
They have no choice, of course,
And it’s me who’s sad.
But it’s not for them.
How much we project.
What do we really know
Of the world out there?
Each year’s new leaves draw me,
The old trees, new growth,
The old teaching:
No growth, no life.
How can trees be sad,
Resplendent in such luscious growth,
Waving green-laden braches
In summer winds?
Yet my new growth
Leaves me sad
For all that might have been.
I think, perhaps,
I shall become a tree,
Give up this restless mind,
This aching heart.
Instead, I’ll wear new leaves,
Reach up into the sky,
Waving my arms
Wildly in the wind.
Site Title

bottom of page