Sticks

One Christmas years ago I ordered an interesting arrangement of red-barked boughs for my mother. She referred to them as "the sticks I sent her." As I recall, they had red berries on them as well. My mother only saw the sticks. I think of my mother every time I place sticks in a vase, and wait for what might come: sticks with potential. I figure now she sees potential everywhere.

Every spring

I harvest sticks

With potential:

Forsythia

Pussy willow

Curly willow,

Sticks

With potential green,

Possible leaves.

I keep the sticks in vases

Filled with water,

Trim the bottoms

So the water

Will rise.

As the world greens outside,

My sticks green

Inside.

I need reminders

Everywhere I look.

All it takes

Is a bud

A shoot

A leaf, maybe two.