Heartwood

Outside the window, 
harried clouds rush across 
the pale November sky  
and the ragged breath of wind
roars through empty branches.

Three tings   
from a rusted wind chime 
    ring 
        a turn 
            in time.

                  *  *  *

In spite of the growing darkness,
the light is sharper 
since the leaves have gone,
and I watch as sudden shifts  
in sunlight and shadow 
                               dance
   across the worn surface 
of my mother’s pine sewing desk. 

I am drawn into the 
curves and swirls of grain lines 
in the heartwood,
and in a flash of insight,
I realize

that the life of her desk 
is more than just about
the click 
      of the pressure foot
and the hum 
      of the motor 
as her fingers pushed
        yards of fabric 
under the piercing needle. 

Now I know that 
its real truth
is about a living tree
  whose growth
                       tapered and 
           twisted 
                  to seek the sun 

and never forgot
the sap that flowed inside
its limbs in the spring and 
      the flowing wind 
        that whispered 
    around them 
in November. 

Image: Love Heart tree vector by TheSunnyRose, adapted by Diane Perazzo