No plants grow
within the shadow of the vast madrone
because its bedded leaves exude
a chemical that poisons them
before they sprout.
In late September
band-tailed pigeons in antic flocks descend
to gorge on the red-orange berries clustered
shining among the upper branches
and strip them bare.
Toward nightfall
they wheel and dive in eccentric drunken loops
idling around the crown
while darkness steeps the lethal carpet
of sterile leaves,
then go to roost
apart, far from the muscle-bound bronze limbs
towering alone above
a barren circle of distinction
into silence.