Photo: Amitai Asif
“I will wait by the tree,”
She had said.
“At the fork where
The road
Meets the lush, green
Horizon.”
Wait she did,
Day again and again
And a month, and another.
Wait until they had come
Trudging home
From the war,
Wearing smiles, but
Carrying the weight
Of their sorrows
Around them.
For Becca Givens’ Sunday Trees
tucked away in the mountains
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