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knowing it s time to feed its budding branches. Like seedlings struggling towards the light, even though I need a baptism of magic waters to cure all that aches I don my gowns and masks and gloves Tend to the sick, the lost, the tired, the dead. I say a prayer, talk to God think of things I love: Birds and flowers and books dandelions, earthworms, mosses, to love, or not enough. I rise makes me want to stay in bed Even when the outlook is bleak: I ve not seen my eighth graders smile. Or smirk. my neighbor cut down the massive oak

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