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