Dear Redbud,

 

Today Theo and I collected

your fallen hearts,  pressed

 

them inside of my iChing where,

like wishes, they will become forever

 

fixed, vein-stained with their moment

of departure. You were a wedding

 

gift. It was spring and everything

was possible. Ardent bark

 

and lustrous leaf, you blazed. Now,

you are tentative, leaning a little

 

as if resisting the burden

of representation. Shy of color

 

and circumstance. I want to cover

your bare shoulders, your many

 

empty arms. As if winter were

something I could spare you.

 

As if letting go were not

the only way to begin.

 

 

Comments

[Kim Klugh]

Oh Sage, what poignant imagery you create with this--for me, it reads like a poetic sigh.

Kim

[Eliza]

Ah. Yes, yes, yes!