The tree in the backyard is gone. I had the guys come and take it away
It was dying. I had no choice. Now the yard is empty. Next year there will be a garden. But now I miss the tree. It was a sugar maple that branched out and up. Now there is a stump waiting to be ground down and out.
The wood is stacked up ready for the coming winter
My birthday is coming. I am going to be 35. These poems are all I have accomplished. They are for you, my love, my Henry, my earth, my maple, my sweet, my rock, my baby.
I am not as good as a tree but maybe when I am ground out my stacks will keep you warm