Arbor Vitae

I love the sun and sand,
waves lapping the beach,
suggestions of Paradise;
I love midwestern
forests and prairies,
the long lazy summers.

But I am not a palm
or even a hardy green ash,
branches inclined upward,
waiting for manna from
heaven to rain down.

I am a northern tree,
limbs inclined outward
and even, when burdened
with heavy loads, downward,
the better to shed
adversity rather than
be broken by it.

My trunk soars upward
to touch the sky,
not supplicate it.
I am a northern tree.