Sitting in the yard today

I realize the tall tree’s trick

is to be weightless,

to vault into the quiet air

and high summer light.  How else

could a branch float

the color green just out of reach

to those without wings,

claw feet,

the suction of a snail, raindrop,

moss, or the light of a moth?

Only when a tree is cut

or blows down does the

Earth increase, weight

appearing from out

of the blue, a void in the sky,

true silence heard.

The last spokes of sunshine

become fireflies in the night.