mulberry tree...

I recall the mulberry tree that was at the barn that grew up with me I remember its buds in the spring and all the feeding birds, and how they would sing. The berries held their green until just the right time, and then their brightness would shine.

In this tree I held my dreams, on a small platform, in my shirt and jeans. I would create with my mind all that ever was, and would be until the end of time: and return to all that was living. The birds would on eating, I would go on dreaming and the tree would go on giving.

Of us now, what remains, a memory of empty branches, and berries fallen.

Of buds grown full and distant dead birds calling. I hold still and look out alone, onto the next life and brighter days. I look back and see, the mulberry tree, foretelling.

I will touch the very last flower; I will touch the very last grain. I will touch the very first of the very last. Only the mulberry tree shall remain.

All Rights Protected Harper 2003