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Author: Ruth Gilchrist
Year: Future

Yesterday a storm blew,

Today I learn poems.

Tomorrow I cherish.

Tomorrow we will go again to visit cherry trees.

Cup blossom in gloved hands

count the petals.

We will wear fine clothes and remove our shoes at the door.

Bring gifts of air and sunbeams,

prune out the news.

We will water them from a galvanised bucket,

feed them with unrushed listening.

Share leaves with our friends.

We will make studies in the ways of their roots,

idols of their dedicated pollinators,

be mindful of their wounds.

We will choreograph a new dance between the branches.

Float petal promises down the river,

sing back the swallows.

Tomorrow the smallest of yards will make space for cherry trees.

Their first tears will be painted, each cellular hour recorded,

their histories retold.