Loss

LOSS A tree came down in our front yard, I’d never noticed it ‘til now, Its rugged trunk, its ragged bough Had kept the sun from shining hard. It was this tree diffused the light, Its limbs selecting out which beams Should enter, in bright-ribbon streams, Our fronted rooms, to light them right. It served its purpose quietly – Living, I never gave it aught Except indifference, Never thought, But dying, made its mark on me.