The Time Of The Dogwood Tree Poem by Romella Kitchens

I come to you, Dogwood and sit down in the soft grass against your trunk.
I come.
It is an early Summer of the Pandemic and many old souls have been lost.

People who enjoyed and loved are gone.
It is also an era in which violent men have done many violent things.

But, for the moment, it is indeed Summer, your blooms in time will pass.
I have a tuna fish sandwich with me
from the A-Plus Mini-Mart with a bottle of
organic orange juice from my refrigerator.

I come and dance in my soul, my back against your trunk.
My back against your wise, wise trunk.
From this vantage point I hear your life, Dogwood.
I sense your memories of people and birds and soft rains, fear of lightning filled storms.
I come, Dogwood and think, know you will
out live all of us and most probably in terms of personal longevity already have.