Self-Portrait

I wanted to hug a tree tonight -
I mean really hug it, walk up and embrace it.

I've walked by that tree countless times,
and not once have I even thought of touching it.

Tonight, a floodlight cast bright, unnatural shadows
on a dorm lawn where night usually lies thick and black,

And the cold air lent new clarity to everything:
the stars, the trees, my own consuming loneliness.

My breath made white clouds in the air
as I stared at the branches of one tree in particular.

All the leaves had browned, died, fallen away,
and only a few pecan husks still held on with futile hope.

I studied the twisted branches and bent twigs,
thinking how devastatingly sad and exposed they looked.

It was then, in that moment, I wanted to hug that tree,
as though it were a dear friend grieving.

I wanted to smooth out the knots in its trunk,
coax the branches and twigs into stately curves.

I wanted to reassure it, tell it everything will work out fine,
remind it of the renewed life that comes after winter.

It only just occurred to me that the reason I felt drawn
- to a tree, of all things! - is that it looked precisely as I feel.

I wanted to hug a tree tonight, but
I continued home, alone as ever in the frigid dark.