For Arielle Taitano Lowe

My father tended fruit trees in his retirement
Joining a long tradition of farmers growing something sweet and necessary
Winter pruning carefully selected branches to boost the summer crop
Planting long rows of bare root stock as a promise to the future
Certified to spray poison for pest control
Shooting woodchucks threatening the stability of the orchard
Managing transient work crews despite language differences

Surely his work among the trees should have meant
he was among the first to know that our tree of life was dying
And had been for some time
Dried withered leaves on the ground out of season
The once flourishing liberty tree naked and forlorn
Our feet crushing husks as we study the branches to find
No blossom and no fruit and no harvest but bitterness.