The Judas Tree

by Michael Keeling

In summer
horizons shimmer

my shade gives
respite for the passer-by

birds hop for insects
before the scorch of middle day

voices drift the valley
mushrooms are broad-brimmed hats

In winter
branches are bare

waiting
in deep sleep

waiting
the spill of blood

as petals unfold
on stark limbs

and droplets fall
through the noose of remorse

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