Canopy
I’ve got a poem here for you. One of my own. It’s sort of a free verse/prose poem hybrid, but I actually kind of liked it, so here it is. My poem, “Canopy.”
Canopy
John G. Stamos
Motors run, and the sound of rubber rolling on asphalt
Joins the din of people by the thousands
Looking at their screens
And making purchases, and jockeying for parking spaces.
I am here among the thousands,
And the noise and the smells of exhaust and indifference are in the air.
The places where people go,
The cities, the stores. The works of humankind. I am tiny here, surrounded
And unnoticed, and vulnerable, on a concrete sidewalk in the shadow of a building.
But I can close my eyes and roll back the years, and I am
With my dog, and with the old scabs on my knees,
And with the sound of my mother’s voice, behind us, in my ears.
“Be home before it’s dark.”
My short legs take me (and my dog’s legs take him)
To a place in my memory, a place beside the river,
Under a canopy of trees, where I hear
The swish of tadpoles swimming, and the beating of a dragonfly’s wings,
And where there’s fresh dirt on my knees.
It is summer.
I am beneath the canopy, with my dog
And the tadpoles, and the murmur of the river,
When a bird calls (a cardinal, by the sound) to his mate,
Who I am sure is feeding their babies.
My dog and a toad are nose to nose, and
The toad chirps, and my dog looks up at me.
It is summer, and we’re here beneath the canopy, my dog and I,
And the toad and the cardinals. And I am nine.
I sit down on the ground beneath the cardinals’ tree and
My dog sits beside me.
I put an arm around him and I can feel his heart beating.
My other arm reaches around the trunk of the tree and,
Against the inside of my arm, I feel the rough and unblemished bark
That protects the secrets within this sheltering tree’s heart.
An ant inches across the dirt we sit on, my dog and I, and
Investigates every change in elevation, and pauses at every pebble,
And ascends the tree trunk. Does he guess at the tree’s secrets?
Beneath the canopy, here in the shade of the tree, with the sun
Shining above and peering sometimes through the branches and the leaves,
My own heart beats in time with my dog’s, and with the beating of tiny wings,
And with the murmur of the slow little river, and with the song of the cardinals,
And with the pulse of an old tree’s life, and with the twitching of a squirrel’s nose.
Beneath the canopy, the secrets of the world are told and kept.
My hand rests on my dog’s head, and thoughts of what marching time
May show me in the years ahead
Are far away from me, as we sit beneath the canopy.
What matters most here is the ant’s plan, and the cocoons of caterpillars,
And a web that a spider has woven, and a turtle my dog now notices, who moves to
A sunny spot to bask on the bank across the lazy water, and
The fluttering dance of a little white butterfly.
Uncertain footsteps that stray along an unknown path are never taken or
Even considered here, beneath the canopy.
A lifetime of a million lifetimes, of a million guileless souls,
Is lived now, here, beneath the canopy, and
It enraptures a boy and his dog.
Fifty years is spanned with the opening of my eyes, in the shadow of a building.
The jostling, the exhaust, the indifference, the squealing tires
Hang in the oily, noisome air of the present. How could it turn out like this?
Is this where that long ago uncertain path has always led? To this morass? Here,
Where there is no cocoon, no canopy, where all sides are exposed, then flanked?
I close my eyes. The sound of my mother’s voice mingles with the purling of the river,
And, from beneath the canopy,
My dog and I watch six ducklings swim in a row, following their own mother and
The ways of the river.
“Canopy” ©2024. John G. Stamos and The Renaissance Garden Guy
Sometimes, things just pop right into your skull, you know? That’s what happened with this poem, “Canopy.” The whole thing basically wrote itself in my head, and I just cranked out what was lodged up there. In any case, I hope you liked it, and I appreciate your sticking around for it. As always, I thank you for your interest and your readership.
Cheers, and Happy Gardening!
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O my – that is such a spectacular poem!!!!! It brings back memories – many memories.
You are a blessing.
Keep writing poems!!!
{{{{{{{{{[hugs}}}}}}}}}}
Oh, wow! Thank you so much, Annie! I’m so glad you liked the work. I’m really happy to hear that it took you down memory lane, and I’m very grateful to you for reading it and for leaving this incredibly kind comment and compliment. Again, I’m so glad to know that you liked the work. Thank you once more!
My Father was a poet, among other accomplishments of his life. Your poem is beautiful and full of true meaning and acknowledgement of a place in time peaceful and wonder-filled bumping up against the brutal future. We’d rather be there than here…
Well done!
Thank you so very much, Melody – how incredibly kind of you. I truly appreciate your reading the work, and leaving your kind compliment and lovely thoughts here. I’m sure your dear father was a fine and accomplished man, and I agree entirely with your position. That place in time to which you refer – and I do believe that every single one of us has such a place – is idyllic, and deeply missed. I’m sure that most would agree with us, Melody, that our special memories – our own places in the past – are where each of us would rather be. Thank you once again, Melody, I appreciate your kindness and your lovely thoughts.
How wonderful to be transported to childhood (yours and mine!) through this entrancing poem. Lovely, John!
Thank you so much for reading it, Lisa, and for leaving your lovely thoughts and kind compliment. I’m glad to know that this work took you back, too. I think it’s fascinating to know how incredibly elemental and powerful the pull of the natural world can be on some of us. That attraction can definitely serve as a comforting haven. This component of your own personality is evident in your work on Hiking Autism. I’m glad “Canopy” resonated with you. Thank you again, Lisa.
Yes, your insight about the powerful pull of the natural world strikes close to my heart. All those basic sensory experiences we have in childhood still reverberate.
Understood and agreed, Lisa. I think the entire dynamic really is miraculous.
A beautiful poem, John, full of nostalgia and melancholy. Your memories of your childhood are peaceful and fulfilling. It can speak to everyone who chooses to listen.
Your own thoughts are lovely, Thea Becky. Thank you so much for sharing them here, and for reading the work. The thoughts and memories recounted in “Canopy” are a haven for me. And I do agree with you – I believe that everyone has their own “Canopy,” and can find respite there themselves. I’m so glad that you appreciated this work, Thea Becky, and I thank you again for reading it and commenting. I am truly grateful.
Such beautiful poetry. The emotions about past and present… contemplating those past memories, childhood, the beauty of nature… we can all relate to it…
Absolutely loved it! Very beautiful and touching!
Thank you for sharing it with us 🙏🌹🌹🌹
Thank you for reading this work, Roxxy, and thank you for your lovely thoughts and incredibly kind compliment. Those times of childhood innocence, and our memories of them, are indeed to be treasured. Nature’s simple, unadulterated, and profound beauty impacted me in a fundamental, unforgettable way. I turn to it often for respite and sanctuary as an adult. Thank you once again, Roxxy, for reading the piece and for sharing your thoughts. I really appreciate it.
This is lovely, John. I was taken back to those wonderful times…I’ll never forget them. ❤️
Thank you for reading it, Tina. I’m so glad you enjoyed it, and I appreciate your kind compliment and your lovely thoughts. I’m very happy to know that this work brought back fond memories for you. I’m amazed at how transporting those special memories can be. That, in fact, was the very thought behind this work as it formed within my brain. Again, I’m so glad that this work resonated with you, Tina. Thank you once more.
Your poem is a timely reminder that so many of us have lost touch with what is natural. “Canopy “ is a gorgeous poem, John. Thank you for sharing.
I’m very happy that you liked it, Eva, and I’m grateful for your appreciation and incredibly kind praise, and of course, for your reading it. I do agree with your point that the appreciation of the natural world – with all of its wonders – has become an obtuse and distant concept for so many in today’s busy, technology-oriented society. Sometimes a spontaneous side-by-side comparison can serve as a wake-up call. Thanks once again, Eva.
We should all slow down and appreciate our past and Mother Nature. Our memories should be explored and not forgotten. They are part of us. Thank you for sharing your writing with us.
Thank you for your lovely thoughts, Rick, and of course, thanks for reading this work. I could not agree more. Our memories, as you mention, make each of us what we are. And they often present quite a contrast with our present circumstances. That contrast can be thought provoking and inspiring. Thanks once again, Rick.
The canopy is with you always, just like your mother’s voice, sheltering and revealing what is to be cherished and held close. I love this poem, John. I’m so glad you were listening when it was ready to be written, and that you chose to share it.
I’m honored, Dayle, that you enjoyed this little work, and I thank you for reading it and for your praise of its merit. This means a very great deal to me. As an artist, you’ll understand how such things essentially assume a life – and voice – of their own. Sometimes I feel that I’m little more than a custodian who simply responds to a call for action, and that these little “thought forms,” once admitted to the world beyond my brain’s frontal lobes, do all the hard work. Again, Dayle, your appreciation of “Canopy” means the world to me, and again, I thank you.
What a wonderful poem! It brought back memories of my childhood. I think everyone can relate to it in their own way. This is one of your best! Thanks for sharing it with all of us.
Thank you so much, Kevin. I really appreciate your kind words. I’m so glad you liked this work. I must admit that I really enjoyed getting it out of my head and into print, and I also have to admit that I’m very happy with the way it turned out. I’m glad to hear that it struck a chord with you. Thanks once again, Kevin!
John, this is lovely! I love the quietly beautiful imagery and the stark sad contrast between your remembered world of revery and the sterile present. Many thanks for sharing this with us.
Thank you so much, Mary. I’m very happy that you liked the poem, and I appreciate your reading it and leaving your kind thoughts here. Your description of the present as “sterile” is absolutely spot-on. The contrast you mention is indeed stark – it can be incredibly jarring when that sterile present intrudes on pleasant reveries. Thanks once again, Mary!