Recovery

For years the trees had no one to look over them.

Rains followed by drought followed by floods and other hardships

kept them alone in the cycle of winter, spring, summer, fall.

Sometimes they shivered while snow balanced on branches.

Cars drifted past, wide brims of light at night, not even a glance, and the ground

was absorbed with its own issues of sun or shade, rain or dew.

Finally from a nearby window came the faces of two girls and their voices calling to the birds

who sang in the trees, the deer chewing leaves, the rabbits and squirrels, Quiet, be quiet,

our mother’s sick and she’s sleeping. Day after day their mother turned

toward the window—awakening.