The metaphor works its way through time in Wanda Campbell’s poem “Family Tree” from Haw [Thorn]
my father’s family is as clear
as the sap his father
squeezed from the trees
each sweet spring
his mother only four
at her mother’s sickroom door
kids farmed out after the funeral
like maple keys in the wind
Squeezing a living; the living squeezed.
And so for day 150
13.05.2007