Tree
It is foolish
to let a young redwood
grow next to a house.
Even in this
one lifetime,
you will have to choose.
That great calm being,
this clutter of soup pots and books—
Already the first branch-tips brush at the window.
Softly, calmly, immensity taps at your life.
JANE HIRSHFIELD is one of American poetry's central spokespersons for concerns of the biosphere. Read More
Jane Hirshfield’s poem “Tree” was previously published in Given Sugar, Given Salt (NY: HarperCollins, 2001). This poem has been reprinted by permission of the author.