Letter to the Editor / APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH

By J. M. VARELA – CONCH POET

Sometimes you read a comment in the other newspaper that prints anonymous comments that are so incorrect and just plain stupid that you have to reply.

This reply is directed to anyone who thinks that all of our large canopy shade trees were brought here from “up north” and that the only hurricane safe trees are palms.

Please tell me — where did you get this information?
I am not an expert botonist, but I am a native Conch, who has spent most of my life in Key West enjoying our many large tropical canopy trees such as the Gumbo Limbo, West Indian Mahogoney, Sapodilla and Yes, even the Royal Poincianna (that is indiginous to Madagascar),   This tiny spot of land we call home has had a beautiful and lush tropical canopy for hundreds of years until people came from “up north” to build second homes and began systematically removing these trees to make room for their big houses and swimming pools.

Perhaps it is time for our urban forrester to write an article about all of our wonderful indiginous trees to set the record straight.

 I enclose one of my poems that focuses on the strength, beauty and hurricane survivalism of our Carribean trees.  Just in time to celebrate NATIONAL POETRY MONTH.

STRIPPED BARE & POLISHED

Sunlight bounces off their twisted trunks

making them shine like polished

pieces of expensive silverware.

My favorite Caribbean trees,

nicknamed the “tourist tree”

because their bark is red and peels

like sunburned island visitors.

They stood bold faced and naked

against mother nature’s fury.

Held strong by roots

wrapped around coral rock.

Stripped bare and polished

by the windswept sands

of the hurricane.

Now, light shines through

the empty spaces

where many trees once stood

Revealing the under belly

of the Florida Keys.

The stuff of people’s lives

stacked high and rotting

along the highway,

boats, refrigerators, furniture and such.

What was secret and hidden

from the highway’s eyes

behind a gentle green curtain

of vines, leaves and

vibrant orange red blossoms,

is covered with rancid silt and mud.

Light, glorious sunlight

where there was the

raging storm and surging ocean.

Bakes the land

till it cracks and begs for rain.

Rain to nourish the

stripped bare and polished

Gumbo Limbos of Matecumbe.

(9/17/17 Coming home after the storm.)

J.M. VARELA – CONCH POET

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