MAGNOLIA

The ground beneath the old magnolia tree
Is drowning in chameleon tears.
I am impelled to gather them,
For I need to hold treasure in my hands.
As a mother passionately embraces her child.
As the rich, earth embraces the roots of the saplings,
I desire to hold treasure in my hands.
Impelled to give them shelter,
I place them in a basket woven
With the memories of distant affections.
What are these movements, delicate and unfamiliar?
What are these thoughts that pass without recognition?
Where will they find sanctuary?
Outside my window
The magnolia replies
To the spectral touch
Which tilled the soil
And sanctioned the heart.
The years have brought its shadow to my door.
The infinite nexus of then and now,
Is the grasping of sentiment
And the love reared in chameleon tears.

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