It's always
like this
the ruby
Maple florets
offering
up some
potent
dreamsong of
summer
days when the
entire
maple leaves
full
grown
well
attached
do now cover the tree
generating
chlorophyll
digesting
sunlight
engendering
processes of
oxygen,
carbon dioxide, their
stems
and branches, the
quiet
deep rootlets
aspiring to
this width and breadth
this width and breadth
of the tap root
itself
stolid,
powerful, while
dark
rich soil anchors
such
complex life
beneath
all our days and our
driving
to work or our
sometimes
confused wakenings
early
in the morning, saying
“Oh,
right, I am this person and
oh,
yes, this is my life",
twisting about to check the
familiarity
of the
bed
clothes, the
weight
of the cat
pressed into you while
outside the bedroom wall the
outside the bedroom wall the
aged
Maple
stands
by your side
abuzz
with the potency of
another
rendered Spring
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