Among the trees that remain in our yard in Iowa City,
now the Dutch Elm disease has swept through it,
is a mulberry.
"The Self and the Mulberry".
I wanted to see the self so I looked at the mulberry.
It had no trouble accepting its limits,
yet defining and redefining a small area so that any shape
was possible, any movement.
It stayed put, but was part of all the air.
I wanted to learn to be there and not there,
like the continually changing, slightly moving, mulberry
wild cherry and particularly, the willow.
Like the willow, I tried to weep without tears.
Like the cherry tree I tried to be sturdy and productive.
Like the mulberry I tried to keep moving.
I couldn't cry right, couldn't stay or go.
I kept losing parts of myself like a soft maple.
I felt ill like the elm.
That was the end of looking in nature to find a natural self.
Let nature think itself not manly enough.
Let nature wonder at the mystery of laughter.
Let nature hypothesize man's indifference to it.
Let nature take a turn at saying what love is.