Bonsai

You grow

out of a deep

seated place

alive for many years before

we found each other

as when talk

falls

quiet

You trust

my slow instinctual turning

inconsistent with the earth’s—

You abide

between heavy downpours

scattered showers

dry spells

household pests

and sunlight

variances beyond

my power    I’m guarded

about pruning

I’m the one learning

here   Unsculpted

sculpture, you realize for me

many lifetimes, many lives

You transfigure

ambivalence

by your delicate sturdy

trunk, those gnarls

exposed roots, tight brittle clusters

of foliage   You weren’t given

to me, but I am your caretaker

and write

from within this mute

bone dwelling at your

base                                                

Mary-Marcia Casoly