☀ Today's Poem: "The Missing Apricot Tree" Jane Miller

Long ago, when we met, and had to
separate, you sent a picture
of you squatting by a river,
bathing, your face half-turned, looking
over your shoulder beyond me
into a monastery, and beyond that,
daughters hanging threadbare laundry.
We were ourselves
so young. I longed for your return,
and in springtime, although the wildflowers
were few, we lived together.
Hundreds of fireflies
accompanied us in dream,
swarming in the birches
out the uncurtained windows.
They alarmed us, and the cries of returning geese
drove us farther under the covers.
We never stopped talking of their beauty,
although the years parted us forever.
In the full moon’s light
on an empty bed,
the white geese, melting snow
and firefly glow dissolve.
I forgot to give you a parting gift.
Then silence. Not to be confused with emotion.
Anise rises from the village.
And a missing apricot tree
becomes as massive as the past.
The five white petals of its blossom
survive as I do,
as spring energy
in an aging body.
Another night of a big moon.
I roll in and out of its light, wondering,
late autumn, how is it
that I could lose my first love
as carelessly as a line of verse
that made the whole work.
Not that art perishes.
Nor is love
only about pleasure.
I still need to thank
the old gods in the rocky earth
for all that has happened.
This stick will have to be a tree.