How do the trees that border railroad tracks
know exactly when to stop reaching up and out
so they will not be slapped back toward themselves
with the slow and deliberate passage of trains?
People are like that too-
they stop- as if it is just time-
so that they avoid the pain of growth.
But not you, my love.
You are like the tree that refuses to yield
and just reaches higher toward the impossibly distant sky.
It is almost as if,
when the train rumbles by,
that that tree is encompassed and protected
by clouds.
blue sky infinite 