Not a tree really. Moved out
to a deck every spring, back in
when fall bites and dark drops.
Mother once said, The low forties shocks
the roots. Wouldn’t want your
roots shocked, would you?
As I moved my jolted roots,
from a house lived in for fifty-two
years to an apartment, the tree
came with me. The light here,
as there, plays across its leaves,
now falling, scattered in this place.
A place to bring things past
to stay as long as I last.
Diana Pinckney is the author of five books of poetry. Published in many journals and magazines, print and online. Pinckney has been awarded the 2010 Ekphrasis Prize, Atlanta Review’s 2012 International Prize and Press 53’s 2018 Prime Number Award.
