RSS Feed

Category Archives: tree

Month 4:1

My daughter heads out alone to the pond
to photograph tree limbs, their scepters of ice
bestowed by a storm as regal and beautiful,
as evil to the eye, as The Snow Queen.

by Therese L. Broderick

Month 3:15

A silent night at 391 West Lawrence Street.

A silent night at 392. From each front window,

fast-blinking lights tweet their glad tidings.



by Therese L. Broderick

Month 3:11

In the auto showroom, I estimate

how many petrochemicals

are fueling the yuletide display —

one artificial tree, mid-sized.


by Therese L. Broderick

Month 2:5

The vine covering a tree trunk

flounces its leaves, autumn red —

a neck collar ruffled, funky, vintage.


by Therese L. Broderick

Month 1:28

Oh, tell me the name of this smell. Some tincture

of trees? Ointmented pine with maple? Crab apples

smeared underfoot? Or thyme, the kitchen’s elixir?

Oh, tell me its name, this full September-steeping.


by Therese L. Broderick

NOTE: This piece was inspired by my visit yesterday to the home and gardens of Edna St. Vincent Millay. I was transported by the outdoor smells there. The last word plays with the name of the place, “Steepletop.” I was inspired also by a phrase from Millay’s poem “Renascence” — a “miracle / Of orchard-breath…”

Month 1:3

I am fifty-one, I sway

easily in my afternoon, I grow

wise, I grow into

that first tree I loved,

loved to climb as a little girl.

by Therese L. Broderick

%d bloggers like this: