Today's poem is by Rosalie Moffett

The New Trees
        Cell towers can be hidden inside an. artificial tree.

The new trees rise up and up, fingering out, one cell
in a cellular network. They do everything
the old trees did: listen, collect our discarded breath,

transmit it new into air. We need them. We take them
ugly and make them hidden: crown of fronds, green
more ever than evergreen. And then we talk to them

the way we used to talk to dolls. They weren't quite right—
too light, never blinked—but they were ours
and knew our language the way babies never did.

Copyright © 2016 Rosalie Moffett All rights reserved
from West Branch
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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