The Copper Beech
by Marie Howe
Immense, entirely itself,
it wore that yard like a dress,
with limbs low enough for me to enter it
and climb the crooked ladder to where
I could lean against the trunk and practice being alone.
One day, I heard the sound before I saw it, rain fell
darkening the sidewalk.
Sitting close to the center, not very high in the beaches,
I heard it hitting the high leaves, and I was happy,
watching it happen without it happening to me.
Photo by Sandra Peterson Ramirez.