On the horizon
yet long ago,
or perhaps yet
to come, I
glimpsed two
trees with branches
broadly bent
across the sky
and wind. And
I wished that I
might visit their
shade and drink
from the cool
stream upon whose
banks they stood.
This desolate prairie
of heat and time
is simply unable to
shield and shade –
but those two trees
(burr oaks, I believe)
are there upon
the horizon
and their presence
offers to my mind
the possibility of hope
and grace.