Fish Bait Tree

When it rains, you wonder
whether tears are right,

retreating to a corner
covered by catalpa umbrella.

Joy turns on a dime here,
followed by steady rain

so you wonder about tears,
hope, an array of excuses,

explanations for bruises,
the bean-heart of your tree

wilted following flowering,
pounding rain now drizzling,

promising sun behind tears.
And that’s the wonder of it,

how it changes like seasons,
calming after hurricanes

bring all the branches down.
You get on with your raking,

piling debris in that corner,
hoping for quick decomposition,

wondering about the weather,
planning for the next time it rains.

My offering for Björn Rudberg’s lovely prompt to the Real Toads: Swedish Poetry and Karin Boye