Robert Ronnow
The Imaginary i
Kinnakinnik. Chinquapin.
The black walnut we planted is thriving
in zone 5. Even our honeylocust
survives. A silver maple with six stems
switching every which way, first to flower
last to lose leaves. Coupla Norway maples
to string my hammock between. A knock-kneed
sugar maple, made for shade, and a young
bitternut hickory to replace the maple
when root rot takes it out. A white pine grew
like a weed, blocked the neighbor’s view but trees
make better neighbors than people. A river
birch that sweeps its branches like a girl
on a bicycle flying over the roof.
The aspen past the mailbox angles to cross
the road and an unruly quince attracts
cardinals, squirrels, rabbits and blue jays.
Two crab apples with magenta flowers
define Spring on our block and a red spruce
so tall you don’t notice it at all because
the foliage starts high above dead limbs
I keep uncut for wildlife cover.
Hemlocks and oaks where deer lay down their bones
I’ve thought of adopting a yellow poplar
in memory of Dad, for the wet flat
where the silver maple has done well but
tulips want dry soil from zone 7, so no.
Copyright 2025 Robert Ronnow.