At 4 years old, I grabbed my mother’s
Gasp, shock, knocked my
If she’d asked, “What are you doing?”
I could have explained that
I was trying to draw a picture.
I decided that I only needed to
Touch the shape.
Then I could draw the
I remember that crystal moment,
Not only embarrassed,
But trying to make sense of art.
Everyday I want to write a poem about
I want to explain how the bark feels in my
I want people to smell vanilla,
Or today is it butterscotch? Wafting
From sun-warmed Ponderosa
Why, what did you see when I said tree?