Roy Herndon Smith
1
The small holly tree
I sat beside; when father
cut it down, I raged.
2
The tree with the niche
from which I looked at the house
that held my nightmares.
3
The dogwood mother
loved, blooming and left with the
house after she died.
4
The flowering tree
that made a heaven my love
and I lay down in.
5
The tall tree I leaned
against, grieving the love and
home I left behind.
6
The plane trees marking
the coming end of winter
with small buds on twigs.
dust 