10 April 2012


I told myself I wouldn't miss it this year.  I would pay attention each day to mark the changes and wouldn't be surprised by the branches full of leaves one morning when I looked up.

I missed it.  And looked up the other morning wondering where all the leaves had come from and how I hadn't noticed them before that day.


A tiny veteran satchel,
the color of pale cream,
is perched on the tip
of this bare branch.

Snap open the clasp ---
and you will find,
inside this tiny valise,
one rolled and folded
neatly packed


by Kristine O'Connell George
(from Old Elm Speaks: Tree Poems, pg. 7)

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