a poem a day in the month of may
(The Liminality Journal: Kaitlin Curtice)
I count survival
as the-best-I-could-do then.
In this time, I live.
***
little tree
still alive
still leafing out in spring
as if your skin did not split
after an early freeze
then peel
and fall to the ground
leaving no cover
for your soft white inner core
as if the forester did not sever
your trunk
in an attempt to save your life
leaving one branch
askew and tilting to the side
still green
still drawing nourishment
from the earth
from your roots
still reaching to the sky
each spring
you stand
unfurl your leaves
offer a spot of shade
just to the side
of your slender
deeply scarred trunk
you look broken
yet you live
in full treeness
A Streak of Teal 