asher and the papa tree
we sat on cold stone steps
shadows painted in the dimness,
making ghosts dance in the yard.
i held your smallish hand
and we spoke silence
pale stars burying themselves under cobalt blankets as
the lemon light of fireflies emerging,
playing tag under the hammock and in the
luring playmates in the darkness.
we named the tree that night. the huge shadowy
trunk and its outstretched arms
pulling in the
sky above us.
gracious. protective. wise.
like my papa you said.
and so it is.