One winter I rented a house, high on a hill in Chilmark, overlooking the Atlantic. The sun came and went. The ocean changed from grey to green to blue, white caps here and there, now and then.
“The Ukraine crisis is something we don’t want to see.”
—Xi Jinping
A slant of light on a winter afternoon
Illumines a two-foot pine sapling
I forgot I planted at the lawn’s edge.
In my mind’s eye: I accept from
Someone’s hands the tiny tree,
Roots swaddled in a plastic bag.
I transport it from somewhere
And plant it at home on the Vineyard,
Heaping soil around the base, then
Forgetting about it until a ray of light
Points to a tree tall enough for me to see
From the windows of my study.
She would have remembered today’s blue sky / from summers at the Vineyard Sailing Camp / where she learned about tacking and heeling / and coming about on the calm or choppy / waters of the Lagoon.