I.
There are no cherries here, just flat blossoms
I would tuck into nests of cut grass, and sit
with hands stained earthy tones, waiting for birds
to land in the branches of my cherry tree.
II.
My father used to drive his red ride-on mower
through the wispy brown grass and wild raspberries.
Beyond them were sparking wires I was forbidden to touch,
so instead I stood and watched the horses whinny.
III.
The two oaks behind the house grew so close. Their roots
must have fallen together in the moist earth one summer,
and slept for all the quiet, frozen years, only watching and
waiting for birds to land in their entwined branches.
