Poetry
The Perfect Tree
Sometimes, your detours become destinations
I go into the woods to find a tree for my front yard
To dig up, haul it home, replant, it shouldn’t be that hard
Then there it is the perfect tree; I think my search is done
But now a closer look reveals this cannot be the one
For deep within its branches a bird has built her nest
An old red mitten, sticks, and straw stir something in my breast
I’ll find another tree, I think, and come back in the fall
By then the nest, its owner flown won’t mind me there at all
I will not bring my shovel, but put popcorn garlands round,
Hang apples up and gingerbread, and something to be found
The birds will feast and people peep within the nest and find
An image of the Christ Child that I have left behind
©2020, Denise Shelton. All rights reserved.
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