Can a tree be a poem?
I think that tree right there is a poem
and I will try to tell you about it:
Yellow, so yellow, the sun at sunset, so rich that it shifts toward orange
with stark, dark limbs
which reach eastward toward the gap between the sister-trees
which reach toward the pale yellow-green and the orange and the red and the pine and the nearly black hemlock
as though declaiming.
Can a tree be a poet?
I think that tree right there is a poet
and I will try to translate for you:
Dark, soft earth,
Sun, sun, sun,
Dance with me, sisters,
in the breeze.