a round little belly in a tree

caught the light gilding the world from the East 

this morning.

I smiled.



“That sumac’s a trash tree you know,

y’should get rid of it.”

I’m new though to me

in this town of generations.

I’m turned radicle-

a spanking new shoot

nobody’s seen.



So, I smiled

and I kept that tree.

Which has grown “like a weed”

the only one I have on this hill.

It's treasure to me.



A tall tuft in summer

red flaming cones in the fall,

Sending runners of roots

in a jumble.

I’ll be “fighting it forever”

(or not at all) because it’s feeding fungi

cradling insects and soil.

It’s reaching, stretching, expanding-

a jumbling, raucous surge

below the ground out of sight.

Just like me.



in the watercolor bloom of evening light,

deep pinks deepened

the jolly, umber breast on a branch, 

before slipping off the world to the West.

I smiled.



-HR