The Child of a Mulberry Tree

When I peer down at my hands

I see a pattern

of a weave imprinted in my palm

from the basket we carried

when you taught me

In our nook in the garden

a tree cannot carry

the weight of its fruit falling,

we reached up

to lighten his burden

one mulberry at a time.

When I peer down at my hands

I see purple freckles

missing from my palm

since that day, we last strolled

cobblestone paths leading

up to the Tree,

with his neck up in the clouds

who could not have taught me

that a mulberry too, grows

weak in her hold when

the weight of the Stump

sinks her into the soil

you reach down

to lighten my burden

one gravel at a time.