Friday, May 3, 2024


There's a message for us—
written, perhaps, 

in the postures 
of gnarled and
prodigious old trees

who never grew guardian
limbs this sturdy 

to harbor 
the likes of these 
avian refugees; 

whose vigilant branches 
were never quite conscious 

of the hives in their 
midst, or their 
startling fragility;

whose thunderous trunks 
were never intended 

to shelter slender squirrels
in their winter
dens of rest—and yet? 

And yet, despite 
all of this, nevertheless...