We have a tree
A Green Green Tree
To Shade us from the Sun
And under it we often play
When All our work is done.

An absolutely perfect tree. A grandmother of trees, stretching high, protecting a perfectly defined and shifting space of soft, fleecy, cool green beneath, named grass. Although called blades with the appearance of tiny piercing spears, they peacefully wait for bare feet and picnics. Her limbs are a highway of community – birds, squirrels, and there – tiny bright ants navigating in the fissures of her massive trunk. Her bark is….well, she doesn’t bite, does she? She beckons.

And who are these children, and what manner of chores are on their list? They must, some days, try to climb the tree and reach the blue beyond. Mostly, this Grandmother is an ample lap to feel contented in with a dog-eared book, a blanket, a gentle game of tag, and a summer’s doze.

Thank you, Mrs Brown. Grade one. 1972. Introduction to poetry. Half the class groaned at the prospect of memorizing a poem. She called it our first poem. One we would never forget. And she was right.

Roy H Williams will readily and accurately tell you he is the singularly most well-paid ad writer…. in the world. He will also tell you the reason.

It is because he could not make a living as a poet.

Neither statement is hubris. They are simply stated facts.

The Ad Writers Guild is Roy’s comprehensive everything-he-knows course on becoming a world-class wizard-trained writer of ads. AKA a poet.

Your business doesn’t need advertising. It needs poetry.

Stay with me. Trust me, for just a second. If only because I am a mom, a big sister, a daughter, and a friend. And, yeah, a poet. A marketing poet.

One of the lessons – early on in Roy’s magic – has as its core rubric his directive to read a poem a day.

Forever.

Always.

Several books and possible source materials are suggested. And the student is never again reminded to do this.

It has been years since I passed the written portion of this particular lesson. And there have been windswept periods where my current book of poetry remains unopened for a day. Or days.

My poem days are brighter. I glimpse a word (a world?), a rhythm, a phase I have never seen before or worse, have forgotten. My writing, my words, my steps are just a little more.

Often, I have a title or maybe just a sentence to share with a friend who was brought to mind.

Reading a poem daily is not the same as remembering to say your prayers every day. But both change, brighten, and create a day that is simply vaster and beyond where you will sit without them.

Your evening doesn’t need another streaming service.
Your relationship doesn’t need space.
Your children don’t need more screen time.
Your staff doesn’t need more doughnuts with sprinkles.
Your business doesn’t need another ad that sounds like an ad.
But perhaps, a poem.
Just one. A day.
You’ve already started.
Thank you, Mrs Brown.

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