I want you to bloom the way you did 15 years ago
Tree of springtime, bright stars against so much green.
I want your younger tree self, your flourish, your promise.
The way you recede these days reminds me of the
Thin skin on my neck, fine white hair, the snow
I find lately on my black- sweatered shoulders.
A Cardinal still sings in your branches
other birds still seem to depend on you
you reach between pine boughs to catch the sun
But your leaves are sparse. Your blossoms, spotty.
“I’ll see you this time next year” -I hear you whisper.
You are optimistic, still semi-cheerful.
Dogwood, you flicker before my eyes
I want to believe in seasons and returns.
Nature gives me pause—it also lets you go.
Early Morning Poems 