how to describe a redbud?
posed beside a white dogwood,
you become fairyland
if i stand still and watch long enough,
i’ll see you
lift satin-shod toes and dance
an airy bit of Swan Lake.
–but only in some obscure ratio of sunlight and shadow
outside of that moment, waiting is useless
blooming out in a Bohemian frenzy of color
putting to shame the pink dogwood
(unnatural, unfriendly pink, like someone
tried to transport Japan
but squished it into
English manor subservience.
… so mild-mannered.)
paired with a pale weeping willow,
you are the dress that my
little hippie self wants to wear
dancing through clover
-and it’s kind of a ragamuffin look-
resting quietly beside a dark evergreen
your branches standing out black in the sunshine
blacker in the rain
not quiet blending in,
or begging for attention… merely
of the reasons
i never want to leave kentucky.