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Claire's poetry corner | Sep 3

Tree

by Jane Hirshfield


It is foolish

to let a young redwood

grow next to a house.


Even in this

one lifetime,

you will have to choose.


That great calm being,

this clutter of soup pots and books—


Already the first branch-tips brush at the window.

Softly, calmly, immensity taps at your life.

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