May the roots reach beneath the sleeping street,
station in the riverbed, register what we won’t hear.
May the leaves puzzle out the canopy,
shake and photosynthesize everything we’re sorry for
into one long breath of air.
May the ring of Tanglefoot and fibreglass
guard against the thunderstorm, cankerworms and climate change.
May the bark rub away the power line,
bandage over knots and burls, commemorate our injuries.
May the hydro worker’s blade be swift and precise.
May the rope remember all the rhymes for knots
to lift me up and lay me down, bear the swinging weight of love.
May the birds answer carabiner clicks,
carry off the tiny seeds of better ways to be alive.
May it all seem plausible:
wherever we land, may we grow.
all rights reserved