Drawing by Judith Wolfe
Daniel Thomas Moran
Poem
THE KINGDOM
The Willow Tree of Ours
was just behind the coop
where they sent me out
at daybreak to collect
the efforts of hens.
A place in Southwest Minnesota
which defined flatness, it was
The tallest living thing,
Set against a world
without boundary,
It became a place with limits,
Branches drawn downward
By the hopeful weight of
Summer. An old stool
Became a throne,
Set in the court of a princess.
How I loved to be alone,
Within the dancing of
shade and sunlight.
And I would rise,
Occasioned by a breeze, suddenly
The cheers of my subjects, but
Alas, It was only the leaves of
this grand Willow Tree
Of Ours, and the hiss,
Of a thousand million tiny leaves.
And I was just a tiny girl,
Who arose each daybreak
to collect the efforts
of hens.