Poetry: A cherry tree is dying in our yard

Under an ancient cherry tree,
(or ancient as a cherry tree can be)
I sit in silent wonder at the sight —
most limbs are gnarled, dead,
the rest so rife with scales they look like fish;
I see the ooze of sap, a blood so thick
it curls like ropes around
the bole but does not drop,

and yet, in spite of all the blight,
red and ripe against the blue
is fruit, handfuls, two or maybe three
that promises a pie for me; perhaps...

but for the birds who waited
till the snow of blossoms fell and
summer's sun fulfilled this tree's
last gift, they eat the sacramental feast
that even this old tree provides
that fills the everlasting need for life's
sweet juice, the wine, the meat,
the bread that feeds the young,
the fledglings
yet to come

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Grayce Scholt is a retired English professor from Mott College who wrote art reviews for the Flint Journal. Her book of poetry, Bang! Go All the Porch Swings, is available online from Amazon and locally at Pages Bookstore in downtown Flint.