Poetry & Prose

magnolia tree


the other day i saw a magnolia tree in bloom—
it reminded me of the one between our houses,
how spring unfolded its fuzzy green pockets
into delicate flowing layers of pink and white
petals that we would collect for the curtains of our fairy houses,
how we would climb up into its branches
to sit amongst the fullness of the flowers;
but a week or two later, just as honeysuckles opened,
the magnolia had already shed its final fruits,
reduced to a skeletal frame that could no longer hide us,
its abandoned petals caramelized and mixed with the dirt,
the tree’s abundance diminished to litter on the ground.
i heard that since we moved, your house got knocked down.
i hope the magnolia tree is still there, in bloom