ARBORAPHILE

She's given up on men -
it's a green ash across the river

she wants to wed.

Each October as its mantle blushes

 crimson with tassels draping epaulets

on umpteen shoulders,

her knees turn to putty, and a hummingbird heart

must carry them home.

Love is like that,

abundantly handling every handicap;

and while left brain raves at the madness,

this trans-kingdom infatuation,

Montague and Capulet,

implores her to reconsider such indiscretion,

her dreams

 simply leapfrog logic for Shangri-La:

tree and woman leaning into

endless entwine, their breath

a feast of sumptuous light.