Sue Russell

your oafish limbs jerk in icy wind
tethered to a calloused trunk
tangled roots thrust obdurately
anchoring to virgin soil

my fickle bud unwinds
at the tip of your reach
I bat my eyes at bees
cloak their legs in gold
then caress your gnarled feet
with spent petals

your succor
pulled up from bedrock
yields drooping sweetness
that tames your branches
to a supple bower

and so
we mingle our separate strengths
from barren winter to juicy spring