Old Elms
A few old elms may here and there be seen
Even today. Their long legato limbs
Lift up and offer summer gifts of green.
In fall, soft gold. In winter sometimes hymns
When winds through branches’ filigrees
might sing.
A freezing mist may cast crazed crystal chimes.
Should a chartreuse haze appear aloft,
it’s spring.
The old man loves the elms, remembering times
When streets were Gothic aisles
all through his town.
He’d find translucent locust cases wedged
In crevices of bark, the locusts flown.
The elm’s thick bark so roughly creased
and ridged…
He fears that all the elms may die from blight.
Their grace is not enough to temper fright.
— Ben Bohnhorst
Ben Bohnhorst grew up in Springfield, and now resides in Michigan. This
is one of three poems he wrote about his hometown included in A Service
on the Sufficiency of Feeding Finches, published by Ridgeway Press. He is
the son of Wilbur “Pete” Bohnhorst, who is featured in this week’s “History
Talk” column.
People’s Poetry accepts poems on any subject, but ones that deal with issues
of local interest are encouraged. Send yours to Books and Poetry Editor Corrine
Frisch c/o Illinois Times, P.O. Box 5256, Springfield, IL 62705, or to cfrisch@illinoistimes.com with “People’s Poetry” in the subject line.
This article appears in Jun 24-30, 2004.
