A Swinger of Spruces

WHEN I see spruces bend to left and right
Across the line of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some mom's been swinging on them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.

I keep thinking about my mother these days . . .

One of the funnier memories . . .

My mother loved to hike. She also loved to blaze trails. And she always wanted a trail to go by spots that offered the best views.

Once, the two of us were blazing a trail in the mountains of Maine, and we came to a rocky outcroppings with a nice view of the lakes and ocean. We couldn't figure out how a way to get from the cliff to where we wanted the trail to go. There was a steep drop-off, and no easy way down from it in the direction we wanted. So my mother decided to lie on her belly, reach over the edge of the cliff, grab onto the top of a young tree--a spruce, I think (some kind of young evergreen), and the tree slowly bent over, depositing her on the ground before popping back up for me.

It was a fun ride. And it became Mom's new "neat thing" that she had to show everyone.

Needless to say, not everyone was as happy with the tree-ride.