By Janet G.
there’s a tree in the yard that has gnarled arms
as if an arthritic stiffness holds her limbs
in tight restraint
her elegance is there, yet somehow compromising her beauty
i have sympathy for her, though i know she doesn’t care
she’s just there to adorn my yard
with shade she gives to grass and shrubs
and yields her leaves upon the ground
and rains down dew in the morning dawn
and i watch from my window on the second floor
and speak to her quietly to comfort her
i feel this connection so heartfully
though i don’t understand just why
what affinity have i to an old oak tree
i wonder each day from this window?
perhaps it’s empathy i feel
knowing what locked up joints are all about
and watching her day in and day out
as if to have kinship with this natural wonder
that continues to grow
she never gives up, even through storms
and winds that threaten her down to the roots
yet she doesn’t seem to mind
instead she simply stands tall
looking at the sky and covering the ground
as if she knows what her job is
and surrenders to it so willingly.
she teaches me.