Near our house
stand two great cottonwoods
so close together
they appear as one.
They have sheltered each other
from wind and storm,
surviving and thriving
because they are two together.
And yet, as they grow together,
they have also grown apart,
each branching out
in new and independent directions.
In such close proximity,
they have constrained each the other’s growth,
chafing against each other,
the bark worn sore
from repeated frictions.
But mostly they stand strong together,
roots entwined,
branches embracing,
forgiving the scarred bark
awaiting the next storm,
anticipating the next spring
only to do it all again
until one or the other decides
it’s time to grow no more.
Granolativity 