The tree spreads its roots beneath the concrete
flutters its leaves in the winds channeled between the buildings
pretends it’s in a forest. Earthworms, confused by its happiness
crawl up through the dirt to find
there is no forest above them, there is only
pavement and hot sun.
The tree shares its fantasy with the city birds,
robins, sparrows, clusters of pigeons,
spreads it branches to make room for their nests
of tiny twigs, faded soda straws, plastic Easter grass
sings lullabies to their babies of its own youth
surrounded by quiet, and trees, and the murmur of running water.
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