My Tree--By A. Michele Leslie--United States

My Tree

I see myself in the window
reflected at the end
of a frozen tree branch . . .
nothing else on the tree
but some books
from my desk.

Once the tree was filled
with apple blossoms.
Now, I alone
am its fruit.

Everything is so cold—
the frosted branch,
the starless sky.
I am just barely connected,
I could fall any moment.

What a heavy fruit
for such a slight branch
and how alone the tree would be
without me.

A. Michele Leslie is a poet and playwright who lives in Minneapolis with her husband, David, and two cats.