Tamarisk & poem "Boundary Trees"

Boundary Trees

Desert Winds blew the roots free
along the rows of tamarisk trees.
Boundary markers they did make
so citrus trees could not escape.

They lined the edge we walked each day
while on to school we made our way.
Grey green clumps against the sky.
Blooming fragrance, made us high.

And when the sun was beating down,
in the roots, solace was found.
Dark and cool within that place,
we each found a special space.

Like monkeys we would climb a bit
Dropping citrus bombs ~ a direct hit.
Round branches, trunks, logs and nooks,
in silent caves we read our books.

Sometimes with friends, and at times alone.
The boundary trees were a safety zone.
No peering eyes, no metal jungle gyms,
looking nothing like the jungle we played in.

And when the citrus were drinking their fill,
we would crawl along the dividing hill,
and coolness would waft across our skin,
and the dirt would tell where we had been.

Never a question of where we were
Why we were late or "were we sure?"
Parents listened to the stories we told
and congratulated us on being bold.

We practiced plays and sang some songs,
the trees and lizards hummed along.
The softness of a tamarisk bed,
a safe place to lay our head.

The shady rows are now all gone.
The wind and leaves play no song.
No refuge from the beating sun.
No place, no more, to have fun.

4/28/2011 12:51:20 AM :: Norfolk, VA
(c) ijil Rainbow Hawk Giver

remembrance of childhood in Indio, California