There the ancient stalk stands
Trimmed tens of times
But as unconcerned with the trimmings
As with the seeming stasis
Of its slow moving
Phototrophic way
Of finding
Out
Each winter I strain my aching aging back
To move the beast inside
Where it glowers
For four or five months
Wondering if I've quit
Caring
How could I?
This plant has seen my life
In scenes I would not want
Those who know me know
And, yet, at times
It must have known
That I was more than what
I am
As well
Now it is at the time in life when
Shove has pushed and push has blinked
And the gigantic leaves on the twin towers
Are touching the ceiling
They've reached out to find
God
Only to find a contractor's schematic
Instead
In the undergrowth of the main engines
There are two smaller units
The thought occurs to me
That I could chop the mainframes
And allow the interlopers free reign
How they would enjoy that established
Root system
Teenagers given the keys
Way too early
(Sure disaster)
Trying to ignore the beauty of the
Full three foot long leaves
At the apex of the giant stalks
Is nothing
Compared to the haunting memories
Along the trunks
Each fallen leaf has a nodule
And each nodule has a date
And each date has a tale
And each tale has an ending
And each ending
Has me unable
To make
Adjustments