After lunch I wash down the kitchen counter
And notice the Hackberry tree outside the window
Has grown taller, its branches much lengthened.
Suddenly I think of her
Among those green buds sprouting
along the skinny outstretched limbs
that point south and north, east and west.
Which way shall I look?
The question bursts like a bubble.
It’s not not heavy. It knocks me
into the chair. My lips form a zero
and I howl like a dog tied to a tree.
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