The
Banyan
Autumn, 1941, Coconut Grove, Florida.
In Memory of L.S.J., 1904-1941.
When I was six I loved the banyan tree,
would shinny up and down its thick air roots
in summer shorts, and never skin my knee.
Its deep shade drew in other kids — recruits.
Lots of times I’d a playmate, and we’d
race
to see who’d reach a limb, or ground, the first.
When not, I’d climb, and highest limbs embrace,
and deep in dappled daydreams be submersed . . . .
Iranian peddlers named the banyan tree
for trade that they exchanged beneath its shade.
They steeped its bark and leaves to make a tea
they drank for health, to spare the barber’s
blade.
I’d not known this, of course, but even so,
its limbs and leaves helped sooth my inner woe.
"Stolen
Moment" Photograph
by Lottie Williams
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