by KATHLEEN HELLEN
she wears the thinness of the aged tree,
the plans that have miscarried.
She’d lost eight last season.
by MICHELLE MENTING
but no one is there to watch you
weather your notions as you strip lichen off bark, as you peel
bark from tree, as you reveal the bare trunk and the ooze of sap,
does anyone sense your thought-quake?
by TED KOOSER
This tree has a thousand little windows
that it throws open in the fall