A second-story window elevates both eyes
to upper leaf clusters;
makes visible the motion of leaves,
that move out of harmony
with the tree’s foliage sheath,
that uniformly sways in the wind
or stands still in tranquil air;
transfixes focus on what is different from the rest;
raises questions about tree sprigs
that jerk in fits and starts,
sudden, sweeping twists of a single
twig,
discordant flutters of a second twig,
without any bird flight near the tree
until
there is a pause in the shaking branches.
Two eastern
gray squirrels
descend the
tree trunk headfirst
before the fall’s
hickory nutmeats,
grown in light brown shells and green husks,
weight down branches and fall to the ground,
the boughs reach out for the sun
without stirring the air.
Motionless
again,
the tree
breathes in and out
as if in
deep meditation
or in the eye of a storm.
©cmheuer, 2021
