I have brought a tree to this page,
Ten. Twenty.  Hundreds crossing
the southern hillside:  evergreen,
deciduous.  The bearers of fruit,
bearer of nut and flower...home
to crow, to jay, robin and the dove.

Generation begeting gerneration:
squirrel, racoon, squirrel, racoon,
sharp-nosed families of possum.
Voles, starred! and moles, tiny
soft creatures tight in the root.

Having seen these wonders
through sweetest union I return
to this page bearing a small
gift of memory:  to the needle
and the leaf, to the fur, the claw
the sharp tooth.  To the shimmer

and glisten of every brown eye
alive from a wet and trembling
birth to last breath.  For each soul
singing, singing through barked
branch to the star and the sun
every leaf and each heart's beat.