A Trick of the Morning Light

There is an Ent-wife in my yard.

At dawn in late winter and early spring,
she stands outside my living room window watching me,
her eyes and mouth knots in the stone pine tree.

Her high forehead denotes intelligence,
the tree limbs, her arms, are raised to embrace
the morning light
or wave in the dawn wind.

She smiles,
she speaks,
her voice the wind whispering
through green pine needles.

An Ent-wife lives in my front yard,
bound in the city soil
waiting for an army of Ents
to come marching
down the black asphalt avenue
to free her.