Pink Dogwood
Margaret V.Doran
See the pink dogwood?
It was planted here not by its choice
nor by the plans of the Master Gardener
but my a landscape architect
who selected it to be "pretty"
And now, at the edge of winter
its blossoms and leaves gone
we can inspect its truth:
it's branches are stunted, misshapen,
covered in lichens
it looks like a knurled old crone
without life
(I had one in my yard one year
and cried with its spirit through the winter)
on closer inspection, as winter wanes
I can see a tiny bud at the tip of each branch
and am aware of something else:
in the middle, stretching up from
the knotted wood are healthy, straight
branches reaching up and up
to catch the sun and soak in the rain
It's blossoms and leaves will soon hide its deformities
and it will be a "lovely thing."
Copyright © 2005 Margaret V. Doran
All rights reserved.
If you enjoyed this poem, please send her an e-mail here.
Updated March 8, 2005
Return to Title Page