they’re not the cottonwoods
or live oaks from my childhood
climbing trees and leafy hideaways
where library books
and pb&js were squirreled away
on long summer days
no they are trees unfamiliar to me
standing watch over my doorway
in the last home of my life
where I will spend long summer days
with books and pb&js
squirreled away in their shade
thecourseofourseasons 
Ah, thanks. I’ve reread the poem with that significant fact in mind and I’m glad that, even though the trees have changed, the pb&js and books remain!
You made me smile, John – thanks! Hope you are safe and well. K
I like this, but i am puzzled: I can’t work out what pb&js means!
Thank you, John – this is what our family called peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! The life blood of my childhood – *smiles*
Thanks again for dropping by. K