An Invisible Story

I learned this week from my reading

on the shadow that each person has an invisible

tree growing inside, making the kind

of progress that needs to be made no matter

what is happening on the outside.

And if a person goes long enough

without looking to that tree, well,

that’s when you get

nailed to it.

This makes me want to learn

all the shapes of all the leaves

and the names of trees and to take

a pen-and-ink drawing class so my hand

might know as well as my head about all the choices

a tree can make.

         It makes me want to drive

over to the grade school in early October

and walk the sidewalks home with first-grade eyes,

on the lookout always for sugar maples, fiery orange leaves

still tinged with green, the trees’ hands outstretched,

splayed, burning to tell me what all I don’t know

about my story on the inside.