Misc. poem (tree)
Morning braided with crow and maple tree.
The crow falls from branch to porch rail, then settles on asphalt. That decides it: we no longer need try
to know what we can’t. How far toward morning does a gold beak turn?
And if every tree is an Ur-tree?
Every tree is an Ur-tree. The wink of a crow resolves what’s true
for the morning: for the crow, the panorama shows as a trayof perches.
Daneen Wardrop is the author of a book of poems, The Odds of Being, and two books of literary criticism, including Emily Dickinson’s Gothic (University of Iowa Press). She has received the 2005 Bentley Prize for Poetry from The Seattle Review, the 2006 Poetry Society of America Robert H. Winner Award, and the 2007 Gerald Cable Book Award. Her poetry has appeared in The Virginia Quarterly Review, TriQuarterly, FIELD, The Antioch Review, Crazyhorse, and elsewhere. (1/2009)