the net that held the sky in my window

Ceremonies 
 
The ash tree drops the few dry leaves it bore in May,
stands naked by mid-July.
When each day’s evil news drains into the next,
a monotonous overflow,
has a tree’s dying lost the right to be mourned?
No–life’s indivisible.  And this tree,
rooted beyond my fence, has been,
branch and curved twig, in leaf or bare, the net
that held the sky in my window.
Trunk in deep shade, its lofting crown
offers to each day’s 
pale glow after the sun
is almost down, an answering gold–
the last light
held and caressed.
 
–Denise Levertov, from Breathing the Water
 
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