Rise

Rise up rooted, like trees.
Rilke

We rise, uprooted like trees.

I have a vast vision
of oak, cottonwood, catalpa
all leaves and boughs down
root balls up dangling
dirt clods and earthworms
like sticks and twigs in my hair
boughs down, roots up
a thousand spears of broccoli
on an ocean bound journey
bobbing downhill, downstream, downside
up and wave their way by as if
they were going to Mardi Gras
and not to splinters.

An aspen grove is single,
like a forest, a field, a flock, but not.
Manifested as many,
connected at the roots.

One day, I’m single, working
the ten year plan of getting my children
to and through college,
minding my own business
and the next
I’m married, retired, moving.
My children leaving for college,
I’m running out of reasons
I need to do anything else
but love them.