TREES

My first wisp of memory

 was of trees.

Perhaps, my mother was wheeling me in my

 baby carriage one summer day

On a residential Chicago street

 circa 1938 or 1939.

Lying on my swaddled back,

 my vision directed upward

Toward the leafy branches

 that formed a verdant canopy

Of what I now know

 were buckthorns and elms.

Stretching across the street

 to touch at their apex

Like lovers embracing

 across time and space.

A lifetime later

 that lush image still thrills.