Memorial Day 2007

The tree I declared must come down, wisteria vines

had wrapped around the trunk and draped, their fingers

on the boughs, swathing them in a purple lace so fine

that Belgium's best lacers would denounce the craft.

To the yellow-winged birds, bodies not fully feathered,

lying in the grass, who my husband suggested be returned

to their nest and assigned another tree, I meant no harm,

sparing them,

saving their voices,

sheltering them.

First appeared in Ariel XXVII 2007