Long ago I planted cypress seeds
and being no gardener I plucked up the seedlings
all but one
taking them for weeds.
That one, in its neglected corner,
now stands a green flame rising twenty feet and more
capital omen capital omen.
But this summer a shabby yellowish bird
Sunken black eyes, a large pale vulgar bill
made her nest up there near the top.
She laid too late in the year and the heat of July
addled the clutch
She sits on and on in the August sun
her beak open, gasping for air.