by Gilda Altman
—
Like old neighbors
unnoticed until they’re gone,
the maples, planted fifty years ago,
are disappearing here, one by one,
brought down by fear—
as though you could fear a tree.
Rumors surface—plumbing uprooted,
fallen limbs denting cars, health hazards—
as though a tree could be hazardous to your health.
Theories surface—fewer trees, fewer birds to
dirty the sidewalks.
Too much shade, they say, ruins lawns.
I’d like to think we won’t miss the trees
anymore than we miss the Indians—
they were once our enemies too.
I’d like to think the squirrels will find
other places for their acrobatics.
I’d like to think the kid with his lemonade stand
will coax his customers to sip and rest
in the shade of the telephone pole.
I’d like to think we still value antiques.
© Altman 2026
About the Author
GILDA ALTMAN is a frequent contributor to Jewish Living Delaware. You may be familiar with her series of illustrated cartoon, The Chosen People. Gilda resides in Drexel Hill, PA with her husband, Neil. “Antique Trees” is a poem she wrote in celebration of Tu B’shvat and is the first poem she has submitted to JLD.
