The Maple

For my friend, Brenda, who took her life on Wednesday

Margaret V.Doran

A maple tree appeared on the hillside
amid the rhododendrons and ferns
a spindly, single stem with one leaf

We decided to leave it
where God planted it
to see how it would do

We pulled up the weeds
that would rob its roots
gave it water and fertilizer

After a while it settled in
birthed new leaves
for our patience and care

Then, as maples do
it began to grow
tall and beautiful

with leaves that whispered to the birds
sang in the rain
danced in the breeze

then turned gold and fiery orange
as it launched helicopters
to the autumn wind

We took for granted
that it would hold fast
through winter's storms and ice

In the spring the tiny leaf buds
at the tip of each limb
withered and died with the tree

it was too tender for the tempest
and stood with fragrant daphnia at its feet
barren branches stretching heavenward

In the dark, damp soils
where the helicopters landed
seeds began to open

new little leaves
curled up through the ground
seeking the warmth of the sun

This is one of several poems written over the course of one year for my friend and poet Brenda Brabender who took her own life on May 21, 2003. Other titles include Empathy | Falling | Not Alone | V | Whole | Worth | Brenda is my sketch of my friend.

Copyright © 2003 Margaret V. Doran. All rights reserved.

If you enjoyed this poem, please send her an e-mail here.

Updated May 23, 2003
Return to Title Page