The Ginkgo
it’s early November
and our ginkgo tree is a-flame,
as if a golden-yellow joy suffuses it,
it greets a new day as if it alone knows
how to release the brightness that sleeps within,
even when gray fog holds and frames it
it welcomes the day as if it is a torch
to remind us how much beauty there is within
that silently aches to be released,
on Election Day this year, I feel the hope within,
the better selves that ache to be released,
the maple near the ginkgo seems
to have forgotten the glory it often flares,
its leaves give up,
slip quickly to brown,
then to the ground,
a nearby oak also forgets
how to do other than to give up,
the election results both hearten and disappoint me,
hope flares bright where the greater of who we are releases itself,
doubt darkens too often where the lesser of who we are
forgets to celebrate that of color that makes us better,
the spirit that feels right and whole.
by Henry H. Walker
November 7, ‘18
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