Of Fragile Things

Intentions sure, I am tender

of fragile things,

Japanese maples delicate

in leaf,

filigree of a sort fashioned

by expert hand,

grafted by experience—

a child’s heart, too, I attend.

A yearning, a dream, a wish—some

of the potted maples I turn

a few inches or set back from the sun

a foot or so at a time. Searching

I aim for the sweet spot, not too much

afternoon heat, not too little morning sun.

Teary-eyed, a child lets me know

I am unbalanced, displaced—encouraging

or have I thwarted?

This time of year many of my maples

have releafed as if a second spring.

Laughing, a child spins my world—re-rooted

I am lesson learned.

Lyman 2021