The Money Tree

The Money Tree

When I was young, I heard of a money tree.

Asking Dad if he knew where one would be—

“They arrive in autumn when gold leaves fall,”

handing a rake to bag a leafy multicolor haul.

Paid in coins “tree money.”

Dad’s joke—too funny.

Now I’ve seen a lot of autumn time.

Stopped raking fall…losing my prime.

Watching the gardener work—not for free,

remembering Dad every leaf drop I see.

Past shadows arise—under a money tree.

April Ryan is Edmonds Potentate of Poems and longtime Washington resident.

SHARING STORIES is a weekly column for and about the 50 plus crowd living in the Puget Sound region. Send your stories and photos to ariele@comcast.net. Tell local or personal stories; discuss concerns around aging and other issues; share solutions, good luck, and reasons to celebrate; poems are fine too. Pieces may be edited or excerpted. We reserve the right to select among pieces. Photos are always a plus and a one-sentence bio is requested (where you live, maybe age or career, retired status, etc.).

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