Hackberry

Poem by W Roger Carlisle

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Old friend, I remember you as a gnarly
bumpy shrub I planted 50 years ago;
I planned to cut you down many times.
Honeysuckle, brambles, vines, wisteria,
decadence, neglect overgrew your ugliness.
You reigned over a depressed corner of
the yard I avoided for many years.

You were remarkable, warping yourself to the harsh
cold of winter, bending to the winds of fall, enduring
each bitter lonely season that comes;
calling to me in the blaze of summer,
lifting me into the death and rebirth of spring,
holding me with your stability and rootedness.