Here comes autumn again and brings back in my mind a poem about a conker tree, which once inspired my dear old friend and Esperanto teacher Kate Hall to express herself so beautifully. I love its lullaby rhythm and reassurance.
Conker Tree
My conker tree, my conker tree,
My dear and faithful conker tree;
However cold the winter be,
There's kindling from my conker tree.
And when the spring has come I see
Its candles gleaming graciously;
However late the spring may be,
At last shall bloom my conker tree.
My conker tree, my conker tree,
My dear and faithful conker tree;
However hot the summer be,
There's shade beneath my conker tree;
And when the autumn comes I see
Its conkers conking merrily;
A bouncing copper treasury,
The conkers from my conker tree.
