Hymns and Homosex.
Fantasies and Feuilletons.
Stories, Essays, Prose Poems and Assorted Devotions.
Monday, January 12, 2009
18. Birch, Spruce
My father planted a stand of birch trees when I was born. Three trees for his three sons. One was rather spindly and I thought, "That one's me." Three decades later, spindly or not, that one has also grown into a tree. None compare to the blue spruce my father planted for my mother, her last Mother's Day. The blue spruce towers, fragrant, over the house.