Two Trees
We perched together, dug in roots that reached but did not intertwine for so long to each other,
the first hint felt like failing, felt like too many trials rushing in.
But they were groundwater quenching parch thirst, clearing the throat for what came,
brilliant laps of sunshine that didn’t waste themselves, turning our leave a bright flash shade
of green-blue crashing off the sky.
We looked to and dreamed of how to float, if only there
weren’t these tangles that kept us tethered to the ground.
But then, sometimes,
We felt it was good to be just where we were, with nothing else
but the memory that we were once so solitary, so unringed by oaken time.
And now had a perfect spot to shade each other.
Carter Vance
Carter Vance is a writer and poet originally from Cobourg, Ontario, Canada and currently resides in Gatineau, Quebec, Canada. His work has appeared in The Smart Set, Contemporary Verse 2, and A Midwestern Review, amongst others. He was previously a Harrison Middleton University Ideas Fellow. His latest collection of poetry, Places to Be, is currently available for purchase at Moonstone Arts Press.