Envy

The branches of the apple tree
bob and sway as cousins play
who can climb the highest.

Blossoms float gently to the lawn.
I turn my chair away as if line of vision
might somehow defer tragedy.

Now, the tree stands empty, its leaves
suspended in evening sun.
I turn my chair around

and watch the fading light
filter through in thin streams,
green as envy.

copyright2010 mark holmgren