Sycamores by Tamara Madison

In late July I stroll the rows
of sycamores
which just last May
opened wide green hands to sky.
In summer’s height
their sallowing leaves
already show they’ve turned
their thoughts toward fall.
When the leaves wither,
brown, and drop,
they’ll leave in their place
the grace of naked limbs
reaching high above the roof.
I know in spring
I’ll feel sad at first
to have that view obscured
by all that eager green.



Tamara Madison is the author of the chapbooks The Belly Remembers and Along the Fault Line, and two full-length volumes of poetry, Wild Domestic and Moraine. Her work has appeared in Chiron Review, Your Daily Poem, the Writer’s Almanac, Sheila-Na-Gig, Worcester Review, and many other publications. Her newest full-length collection, Morpheus Dips His Oar is forthcoming from Sheila-Na-Gig Editions. More about Tamara can be found at tamaramadisonpoetry.com.