On A Day In February

A new knock knock knock against the wall

(he wind is blowing, 

I should mention that)

 

for two decades the birch tree 

in the backyard has leafed and thickened

stretched to reach the house

 

now unbeautiful, weather-broken with winter,

all scrawny-limbed and sharp-knuckled hands

the tree sways with single intent

to knock and see who answers.

 

–Arlitia Jones

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