TREE

Ask her if she remembers the summer – no.
Her evening is for nest snatchers from fear of shedding leaves
from rain sheaves of autumn
now.

The margosa tree is the night house of the shade.  For the shade
is a house.  An immigrant house for wild doves and other
summer wings.  An immigrant house of wild bodies
and wild beasts ascend the tree.  And now there is no one.

The violence of the rain from the autumn on the window.
Her lot fell.  Sheds from her falls from her.
She can’t.  With bared arms got as far as the window.
The Yoreh is her death.

Leaves shed are like migrating birds.
In the winter shed and in the summer redress.  But birds outside
and leaves within.  And in the case before us leaves may also not return.
Believe it.

TREE