The Tree

--by Rachel Pollack.

There’s something about the tree in the window
Something about the way it looks during the winter
When flakes of snow gently drape its branches
And how unbearably bare it becomes
When the wind is bitter and sharp
Forcing it still and silent

And how it is when the rain
Gives the tree what is desires
And the sun streams down its rays
To be soaked up into its core
And the tree sways calmly to the sound of the wind

And how bittersweet it is when its leaves drop
And the air smells of dampened earth
The clouds expel their withering breath
The scent of pine and musky dreams
And the tree dances as the wind screams