Canadian Hemlock

Carl Dennis

Nothing is improved by being praised.

But that doesn't mean the bestowing of praise

On whatever deserves it isn't a useful calling

Even if no one is listening at the moment,

If I'm alone now on my morning walk,

Waiting at the corner of Bryant and Richmond

For the light to change, open to the company

Of this stunted hemlock on the strip of grass

Between sidewalk and curb. A gnarled hemlock

Barely five feet tall, which I must have passed

A thousand times before now without remarking,

And may forget to observe in the future.

So this seems the moment to note that whatever

Fungus or parasite has besieged it has failed

To thwart its efforts to continue.

I don't want to claim too much, to project

Emotions upon it that it doesn't feel.

But I don't want to praise too little, to deny

It possesses the green equivalent of fortitude

For fighting an invader to a standstill,

Just as I wouldn't want to limit my motive

For taking my morning walk to a need for exercise.

I want to be one of the witnesses of the familiar

Open to revelation but not disposed

To insist on it. Let the tree withhold

What it wants to withhold. Let me see

What I'm ready to see now

When I set aside the notion that more is coming,

More reserved for some other day.

Carl Dennis is the author of fourteen books of poetry, most recently Earthborn (2022). Read more .