Canopy

Like other human beings, I have been marked by pain, and brought to my knees seeking solace. This spring the blossoming oak canopy has called out to me, offering its protection and sweet coolness as relief from the beating sun. 

“… They flung us down and flailed above us with their visions and their pale tree light.

I think they were telling us to survive. That’s what a leaf feels like anyway. We lay under their great awry display and they tattooed us with light.

They got inside us and made us speak; I said my first word in their language: ‘canopy’.”

—from Emily Berry’s poem, “Canopy”