Tree empathy, after cleaning up many tree limbs today:

After a storm
Trees lament
Our loses. After being iced,
Trees have their own releasing
Sigh, worth listening too well
As we scurry to clean them up
For our own sake mostly,
And keep them praising heavenward.
The roses, though persnickety, ironically
Made it through with no complaints.
Beauty is tenacious like that.
But we need the trees’s raised limbs
To remember where we are
And how to bow well.