it's like we expect our lives
to be redwoods
straight towards the sky
deep in the ground
like cotter pins for mountains
and if there are to be holes
in our lives than
by god let them be big enough
to drive cars through
But if our lives cannot measure
the straight lines we imagine
if Noah himself would look at
the twists and bends and gnarls
and say Fetch my umbrella, I'm going
back to the forest for another
well, then, remember the bonsai
and the particular aesthetic which says
that every tree, give enough
care and attention
is beautiful
every needle inevitable
every dropped cone the opening chord
of a symphony only just invented