(for Susan)
In the night yard,
the old magnolia is
heavy
with all-day
fall
so I go and begin
lowering the branches,
pulling and releasing
just enough
for the snow to shake off
and keep the limbs from breaking
under unabated weight.
I walk around the tree
and when I’m finished
I stand inside the circle.
Just me and the tree
with the rim of cast-off
snow as boundary.
Beyond, the yard lies
pristine except for exuberant dog tracks.
What if someone took our
burden from us lightly?
Shook us just enough
that we let fall
whatever weighed
our spirit
down?
You did that once, for me.
I was frozen
and with your bracing words
you shook the sorrow
from my limbs
so that I stood centered once again
with the boundaries of my life around
and new.
Copyright © Kimberly L. Becker. All rights reserved.
Visit her on the web at www.kimberlylbecker.com