This tree was beautiful
before the flowers
clung clumping to its limbs,
pale as scars;
therefore let us lie in its disordered shade together,
on our bellies,
and maybe, if we trace
its roots with our eyes,
we will unearth the bone-bare loveliness
that lived in its long lines
all through the winter,
like an animal hiding from the cold;
and maybe
we will recover what was lost
behind a screen of pink petals and sun.
