Speaking of Trees
the tree of the field is man's life.
here with some sugar maples, speaking of trees,
they're not saying much. In spite of all
rumors of persistent whispering,
do not mention genealogies,
with all its branches nor the Fall,
if they wouldn't stand for anything.
made them our field representatives,
in history but branching out,
with trunks, limbs, crowns and sappy hearts,
their seeds in time, shedding their leaves
the very autumn Shakespeare writes about,
if they were our natural counterparts.
simply do not care, nor break their silence
our blossoming conceit. And while I hug
against the cool and breezy plain
the brow of a storm is darkening with violence,
how the sugar maples seem to shrug,
their palmate leaves to catch the rain.
The Silent Partner, Story Line Press,
1994. Reprinted by permission of the author
and Story Line
Press, Ashland, Oregon.