As a Tree

• To Emily on her 25th birthday.
•  
• I type Em and
• am corrected to Elm. I grin
• because Em is like a tree, and
•  
• the elm
•  
• is wind-pollinated. Planted by a breath.
• She makes a home of any soil, no
• matter the pH, the floodwater, the scoff
• of the sun, the smoke clouds, the salted
• ocean front.
•  
• See her interlocking grain, her
• resistance to splitting. See her become
• a wagon wheel hub, become a drum
• for she bends well. Become the keel
• of a ship, gifting strength and balance. Bend
• into the curve of a bow, bend
• into a rope swing, lilting
• in a willow.
•  
• A plow, tilling the soil
• in thanksgiving.
•  
• The elm resists decay, hollowed
• to draw water from the groundswell,
• becoming a river running
• over.
•  
• The Romans planted elms beside grapes,
• rested the vines on her branches.
• Ulmus amat item, vitis non dessert ulmim.
• The elm loves the vine, the vine
• does not desert the elm. The artist
•  
• paints the elm for the ease
• of her branching. For her light
• shade and body’s vase, ever-open
• skyward. I feel at home, here
•  
• in the elm’s light shade. Finding
• breath, drinking water fresh
• from her green and
• holy ground.

Photo by Brittany Lee on Unsplash