Outside My Window Viii Poem by Frank Avon

It's no longer there,
the redbud outside my window

its heart-shaped leaves,
its rapid growth
from a spindly sapling,
its color in the spring,
its dangling seeds,
its filling my sight
with lush green foliage,
obstructing my view
of the street,
the church in the distance.

It's no longer there,
uprooted by my own hand,
a hired hand,
clumsy, incompetent,
too damaged to be transplanted,
its roots torn,
trashed,
no more.

Once again
my view is unobstructed,
I see the sunflowers
and the goldfinch among them,
the little orange lilies
along our front ramp,
the flower bed around the stump
of the old black oak,
the young maple, seeking the sun,
our neighbor's hardy roses,
trees standing tall,
standing still,
filtering the blue sky.
I see them all.

But the redbud is no longer there
- and it was I
in my pride
in my folly
who let it be uprooted

and lost it
and am the poorer for it.