Image by Alex Shapiro
Not a Single Tree
With a compact SUV full of evidence
that I’ve spent the past hour
and forty five minutes of my life
running errands in town, I approach
the steep, curvy, deeply-rutted-with-the-
history-of-several-winters driveway
that leads to the joy
that is the modest home in which I live,
immodestly placed at the sea’s damp edge.
Each tire-threatening divot is like a fossil,
telling a silent tale of the windswept force
that has pushed against this hill
for tens of thousands of years,
and against this house for a little less time.
Not a single tree grows here.
Alex Shapiro
Posted over on her site Notes From the Kelp
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