Persimmon

you held the girls' swing on your strong green arm
back and forth we sang the Robert Louis Stevenson poem
How do you like to go up in a swing
and now that branch is gone

I sit under you remembering
my great warning to the girls
if you hear a snap or a crack ...... run

half of the bark is missing from your base
you leaf out each spring
holding onto life

when you decide to fall
you will take out the swing set
I am too tired to move that

I love finding patterns in your leaves
out my bedroom window on summer mornings
and watching your bare branches
dance in the wind on winter days

you have become my dear friend