Mid-life, without fanfare or fuss,
as though it were commonplace,
he traded his engineering career
to become a tree,
and spreading his limbs
found he could span the globe,
Seattle to Basra.
Citing obscure agricultural ordinances, travel restrictions,
and traditional pest control policies,
federal government threatened to cut him down.
They cordoned off the space around him
and gunned their chain saws.
In response, he summoned wisteria and wild roses
to climb his trunk
orchids to hang from his limbs,
endangered species to nest in his branches.
Editors, journalists, and members of Congress
sip coffee in the shade of his ample arbor.
A steady shower of words like infinite leaves falls upon them,
configurations of leaves like runes directing them
to Baghdad, to Basra.
Iraqi children,
healthy or ill,
move in his branches,
climb on vines, clothe themselves in flowers.
Standing There
Anywhere USA
Cindy Sheehan
The Unmistakable Imprint of Love
Bert Sacks
Visiting Ahmed's Family
Every Iraqi Knows
