Barbara Holder // Poetry

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Number 87

on finding a tree in the woods with a mailbox set inside

Never harm a tree,
but if you find one
with an inviting opening,
put your mailbox inside.

Number 87 will do,
(creatures love the odd
and even side by side).

You’ll find small babies
Hidden there, a squirrel,
or chipmunk, even a bird
or two.

Could any mail be better:
their dark eyes, their small
sounds, the tiny envelopes

of their open mouths,
and later, discarded
leaves leaving their golds
and reds at your fingertips?

No bills, no insistent ads,
no introductions to newer,
more efficient machines

to outdate everything you own.
The tree’s opening is a door
for your compassion, the mailbox
a number in the woods
one can find, the wounded tree
discovering a new way in old age
to give and to receive.

Born in Brooklyn, Barbara Holder received her B.S., M.A., and M. Phil.from Columbia University. She served as an adjunct associate professor of English at Pace University in Westchester County, where she initiated and hosted a series of readings by some of the most eminent poets of our time. She conducted poetry and journaling workshops in many venues. Her poems have appeared in a variety of periodicals and anthologies. Her book, Black Birds, White Stones, was published a few months after her sudden death in March 2005.

Date of Publication: 02 May 2007