Poem 7

Dream of the Trees #7

We all agreed that we wanted to live by a river,
and no one knew cats could swim, let alone
that Humphrey and Bernadette'd be such fine fishers. 
C's mom had made some gorgeous Lebanese cake 
and the kids were tossing handfuls to the pelicans. 
In almost every location, I was learning to make 
a garden. Dad helped me plant tomatoes and corn
and the barns were real sturdy going into the winter. 
(Which was good because the war was still out there.)
On the way home from a party where someone'd
made a card game that included the photographs
of every ex-love of mine smiling with their new families,
we found a tree that was bursting with golden
cattails, and another, powdery white, that smelled 
like honeycomb and rose petals. We scooped 
all the fallen blooms into our arms and cradled them, 
ecstatic, and vowing that wherever we ended up, 
we'd plant trees exactly like these.