279. The Trees - Jericho Brown
Camille Pissarro, Snowy Landscape at Éragny (1895)
In my front yard live three crape myrtles, crying trees
We once called them, not the shadiest but something
During a break from work in the heat, their cool sweat
Falling into us. I don’t want to make more of it.
I’d like to let these spindly things be
Since my gift for transformation here proves
Useless now that I know everyone moves the same
Whether moving in tears or moving
To punch my face. A crape myrtle is
A crape myrtle. Three is a family. It is winter. They are bare.
It not that I love them
Every day. It’s that I love them anyway.- Jericho Brown
