ten trees arrived in the mail today
their tender trunks scarcely more than twigs
but already I was imagining the bank
of white blossoms in the spring —
hawthorne, dogwood, crab —
and the pale hellebores i’d bought
that would start blooming in the snow
the ground beneath the pines is laced
with an invasive vine that insidiously
strangles everything it meets
it had even twined its way inside
the rotting redbud we cut down this afternoon to make way for the new trees
last summer I walked to and fro
with gallon jugs of poison, liberally
dousing every greening weed I saw
not once, but twice at least —
and now you could hardly even tell
i had done anything
can Lenten roses grow from ground
so grievously infested?
can tiny trees thrive in skeptical soil?
