Norwegian Maples shade benches at Prospect Park.
Flecks of sunlight shine through their leaves
like a sprinkle of pennies.
Wind beats those leaves into instruments– at times a fiddle, on occasion a cello. An important moment in time.
The Norwegian Maple: born of Transo, tended by the northern lights.
Green magic exotic to this land.
Uprooted and dragged, she and her babies, across the sea.
To line the American parks and streets
and keep the sun at bay.
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I am often asked what I do for a living; the simple answer is, I make stuff. I make stuff with my bare hands, with code, with colors, with words. I aid in making the people around me realize their optimum selves. I make my mother proud. I try to make my kids happy and encourage them to contribute more than they consume. I make sure self comes first. I make money. I make my own luck. I make a pretty solid french toast. And I do all that I can everyday to make the world better than it was yesterday.
© Stellar - 2017, by The Maker's Union