I threw some leaves in a plant-pot to see if they would grow.
The same night
I drew the tree. With leaves like hands
all clutching at each other in dappled-green light.
I put my drawing on the top of the fridge next to the canvas bag that
          smells like cough medicine.
I remembered when it was used to carry shopping.
The handles cut into your hands as the shopping filled it to the top.
I was sorry for your pain. So I sang to you and heard your reply in another song,
I wanted to keep that song forever.
I opened the kitchen door to let the cat in
and the elderberry flowers,
just coming into bloom,
threw their spit-like petals
all over my face.
I wanted my own tree, with strong, limb-like branches, steadfast even in gales,
more than ever.
I am gleeful with excitement
I am already smelling the sap and the whisper of darkest green even though it is only spring.

Andrea Bowd

If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Andrea Bowd  would be pleased to hear them.