I am the ancient Maple outside my window
rooted and reaching. I am the leaves green,
gold, gone.
I am limbs both strong and broken,
twigs scattered on the ground
after the storm, wind still rustling
my giant petticoat.
I am ivy crawling up my trunk. I am living
witness to the street before it became a street,
to all lives lived in your 150-year-old house
and to the land before that.
I am your beginning and ending, shadow
and light, shelter and shade.
Linda McCauley Freeman is the author of the full-length poetry collection The Family Plot (Backroom Window Press, 2022) and has been widely published in international journals, including in a Chinese translation. She was nominated for a Pushcart Prize 2022. Recently she appeared in Delta Poetry Review, Poet Magazine, Amsterdam Quarterly, and won Grand Prize in StoriArts’Maya Angelou poetry contest. She received a grant from Arts MidHudson and was selected for Poets Respond to Art 2020 and 2021 shows. She was a three-time winner in the Talespinners Short Story contest judged by Michael Korda. She has an MFA from Bennington College and is the former poet-in-residence of the Putnam Arts Council. She lives in the Hudson Valley, NY. Follow her at www.Facebook.com/LindaMcCauleyFreeman
Lovely poem!
I love all the personification (especially the petticoat) for the tree.
I also love the delicate way you imply how old the maple tree is.
It is beautiful, light, and feminine with a hint of dark at the end. This poem is like curling up with a knitted blanket and a cup of coffee on a rainy day.