Skip to content
Menu

Poetry

If a winter storm had ever toppled
the blue spruce that towered over
the Tandem nursing home,
you would not have asked how old
the tree was and by that mean
a good life had been long enough.
You would not have said the tree
would no longer suffer indignities
and use that to erase your frailty.
Instead, we would have marveled
together at the pale corona of roots,
like arms uplifted and exposed.
We would have breathed in
earth smells and the inner life of the tree,
the miracle of the woodcore.
We would’ve been as curious and maybe
as happy as squirrels. We who
had sworn off the small talk of recovery.


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Related Poetry

A Man Gone to Time, A Woman Crucified

By

Nicholas Samaras

Apocryphon

By

Marty Newman

far away shot of a city and freeway in twilight. everything in the image is bathed in a deep purple, violet twilight. on the freeway, the headlights of the car make little pinpricks of light. the sky hanging above the earth is dark purple nearest the ground and the trees, and then there is a burst of yellow and deep pink clouds under a pale sky the color of eggshells, just as a smooth, and dimming steadily.

Lord, Sky

By

Betsy Sholl

Doubt at Easter

By

Jason Gray

Welcome to Image. 

We curate content just for you. Subscribe to our weekly newsletter ImageUpdate for free.


Pin It on Pinterest