an old chester county poem

I can’t take credit for discovering the poem below, as a reader kindly sent it to me. Note the line “her landscapes beautiful and rare.”

The poem dates to 1916. Or, you know, when there were plenty of farms and real open space. Not fields of plastic mushroom houses.

The tree photo is one I took. It’s one of our trees.

for an old friend


One of my very dear friends from high school is going through an insane custody battle way across the country. It is one of those cases where you shake your head and wonder as to the justice in the judicial system.

But I am very proud of my friend – he has held his head high and he has fought hard for his child. He continues to fight hard for his child every day and I admire that.

But my heart just bleeds for him as do the hearts of all his friends because he has an amazing capacity for love and caring and is simply a father who loves his daughter and she loves him. What is happening to him and his daughter is very cruel and unjust and unfair.

Among other things, my friend is a writer, and he recently wrote this poem as a tribute to his daughter. I am sharing it with all of you:

This Girl I Know’
For LL (01/04/2015)

This girl I know, she loves key lime.
We used to share one all the time.
And from her seat, beneath a hood,
her smile said, “I think it’s good!”
She wasn’t big on spoken words.
She pointed at the moon and birds;
And aeroplanes, balloons, and lambs.
Vocabulary on one hand.
Sometimes we’d stroll the river bank.
Admire fish outside their tank.
Or topple ice cream sundaes tall;
Or roll lopsided stones like balls.
She loved eggs scrambled, she loved her bath.
She’d race her 12-inch high giraffe.
And on some nights, her momma gone,
I’d sing and rock her into dawn.
This girl I know, she just turned three.
I feel much younger, when she’s with me.