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during the 1950’s
as a young boy
i could pull weeds for an hour
and earn a quarter
i then could run & skip to the
and for a dime
buy a balsa wood glider
trimmed in red
with a weighted nose
(some assembly required)
then with ease & grace
that glider would
do a tight 360
and crash to the ground
today i watch swallows
under the little sycamore bridge
lots of swoops
and it doesn’t even cost me a dime
from the Nix Center on the way to Barbara’s Lake, under the 133/Laguna Canyon Road
Laguna Coast Wilderness Park, Orange County, CA
Sycamores of Fremont Canyon
By Dawn Bonker
The metaphor of the sycamore is too good to be true.
Deep rains. New growth. Gutsy green fingerlings aim high. Living large.
Then disease hits. Not really a surprise. That’s the way it happens here. Still, the shock.
Then, a turn. New directions.
Branches grab fresh paths; grow right out of the troubled spots.
Again and again they shift, snag and dance until they are tangled, wild-haired ladies.
Strength in every knob, scar, u-turn, elbow and angle.