Poetry

Consider Now

           (Quercus agrifolia)

Old live oak, 
    your hands catch sun 
        and make it green.

But your lowest branches 
    have already done their job, 
        retired into leaflessness.

And one branch, 
    where it used to be, 
        is a black bowl of emptiness.

Still, you reach and reach, 
    bracing sky, 
        practicing your live oak yoga.