MAPLE

Long ago I moved a maple wand
To border the lawn. It burgeoned broad and tall
Enough to tickle the telephone wires and sprawl
Its mass across an ample patch of ground.

The shaded circle holds a bumper crop
of baby maplettes three inches high–
I counted seventy twin-leaf seedlings trying
To make the best of where they chanced to drop.

Some were in sun, some in shade, and some
Had better water. But all must bear the brunt
Of overpowering parent, and moribund
They gamely enjoy the seasons as they come,

The twirling copters have to be far-flung
To live for long; the others perish young.

(106, Nov 29, 1993)

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