Memory of a Tree Surgeon Season
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
One spring he knew stretched on — on and on — like
Suns rising as eternity insists
They should. It was as if an April dyke
Were built to hold back death. Not even mists
Could make their way across the mornings or
The evenings there in Georgetown. The canal
Was blocked (from sending an invasion) for
The sake of undimmed beauty. A chorale
Of nearly endless blossoms on the trees
And in the flowerbeds was sung along
Transfigured M Street. Hardly any breeze,
Much less a wind was suffered to be strong.
..Rhetorical the redbud buds clung on
….Poetically from dawn, to dawn, to dawn.