purple leaves and pink petals shed
bare branches wave in the wind
 
curious bundles of black knot 
line the tree’s shaking limbs
ruin the possibility of return
 
I observe
and prune
and observe
and prune
cutting more of it away
placing knot-covered branches aside
 
each cut aches
I apologize to the tree for not noticing sooner
I ask for its forgiveness,
though the black knotty sprout is spore-spread and unavoidable
I press my hand against its trunk to thank it for the bit of shade it provided,
for the beauty it shared for the years I watered, fertilized, pruned, and cared
 
there is no more I can do
than observe, prune, fertilize, and wait
 
I will uproot it from its stone-circled spot
chop it to bits
listen for its crackle as kindling in the winter fires to come