Underneath the Maple Tree

I've tried painting you into all light and the absence of it too
My fingers are stained, my nails edges uneven and fed
The last splinter was tweezed minutes earlier and I realize my teeth's job is done
Those carved and beveled pieces of wood have better future uses
Reddish-pink convex shapes surround me; indeed I am still loved,
And this is all I need, all I ever wanted—my own family
Like the reflection of jagged mounds that linger in the drafty double-pane

Reminding me that I once had a seed, shaped like two ovals merging with a single point
As a child, I planted it next to a sprouting twig spiraling from the dirt
I expected him to grow,
Like the beautiful maple tree I adored,
In which I watched as its leaves turned from green to yellow
Every fall, through that sliding glass door
By the envious house plant I watered off and on
Waiting for our day to dance underneath those bright leaves
I looked at that twig, still but a speck above the soil
Peace lily drooping at its side
I had too much expectation for a mere fig
Realizing I am no longer framed by ringlets
Digging out that awkward oval was my responsibility if it were to be saved

I'm dancing now, through September
And in June, oh sunny June, I rest my head on a pillow of bark
Beneath its shade, we all watch what I salvaged mend its branches to the wind
Inviting those half moons under as they touch my skin with warmth
I am never alone; they ensure my purpose and support
In my home, fertilized with content, I write…that is, on recycled paper