‘Dedicated To’

We sit perched on a branch

Of this town’s tallest tree

Held strong by the knots of long lumbering life

Breathing fresh morning dew that expands to the sky

To be scared at this height is no sign or symbol

The branches, they move and we sway in the wind

To be amazed by the view is a much bolder truth

And the view higher up? I cannot imagine…

I see through her hair

The same sight of the willows

A drooping beauty to which all dew clings

I run my fingers through it to trace

And feel the freshness of her

My eyes follow the strands back down to my hand

And I am certain of its strength

And the power of its kindness

And I am in love

With that very same hand

The one reaching out

So eager to love her

For this woman does to me

What years do to the trees:

Winding limbs around themselves in a gradual self-embrace

Shouting grand proclamations, “I exist! I exist!”

To cradle their wooden bones

And to dance their fleeting leaves

To give height and a sureness

To a growing history


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