Though the shades are closed, vertical blinds obscuring the view,
I well know what lies behind them.
Out there, in my yard, lives
A grand Valencia orange tree 35 years old or more
That branches from the house to wall in a triangular
Patch of dirt amidst the concrete.
And kitty corner is the tangerine tree, frailer than her
Companion citrus tree but her fruit is sweeter.
She’s younger than her cousin.
In the southwestern corner of the yard are the rose bushes
One tall white rosed tree and one red sickly
She may suffer disease or rot, maybe bugs
And in the corner in the deep recess of abutting walls
Reigns the queen ficus, wild, unruly, with bursting roots
Uprooting everything in her way, concrete, cinder, and earth.
She buries bird nests and Edison wires within her bushy hair
Along the wall between the tangerine and lemon tree
Live a tangle of tomato plants, beefsteaks, cherries, and romas
Overrun nearly, by champagne grape vines grown over
And under my window, sentries to the morning, two small trees
That bloom pink peonies, peppering green leaves.
Beneath them, in the cool dirt, lies the Husky pup, Goosey Loose.
Who’ll soon lift herself on sleepy legs to crawl through
The doggie door, pause at the entryway before hopping into bed with me.