For Magnolia


Every blossom like lips,
like snow,
faint blushed,
has a unique
personality.

Like love,
murmured over
and over,

like pain,
to be so beautiful
for oh,
so short a time
as this,

my favorite,
my joy,
light,
dream.

I bow to you,
in yellow licks
in beams,
in torrents,
in ice thrown savagely,

you grin,
you open,
you drip your beauty,
you widen your mouth,
and lose your tongue.

If I so in love with you,
should pick up each lost part,
tenderly, offer them
to the sky--

and clouds come over me,
and clouds,
come over me,

I wither with you.
I will hold you
until you becoming my thought
turn once more

transparent
and invisible.



for the tree in the front yard

Tree of Birds

Tree of Birds
by T.L. Stokes



From vast paths unlit and mysterious
I am pulled back to the water planet,
back to slim light reaching under the window,
back to the sound of a thousand broken songs--
black wings crowded into one old alder
on the edges of the field.

My eyes are sleepy. White curtain drawn
away from the window, crouched and curious,
I watch the birds. Hundreds of wings carpet
the upper stretch of old black arms.
The crow family tries to scare them off,
they all sing louder. A busy roar. A squirrel
travels along dark highways, I can't even hear
him. The alpacas, soft and elegant, stare.

I lie on a pillow at the window, snapping photos
upside down. Loud birds in their monstrous flock
sing and chatter for a long while. Then a handful,
scatter away from the tree's head. Like pepper into
empty space. Then another handful. Over and over
they shake themselves away. I have a picture, of
the last one, what is his name--

what door did he close
when they had all flown away?





for Heather
because she sees magic