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We Can’t All Be the Fast-growing River Birch

by Ahrend Torrey

Things take the time they take.

Don’t worry.

How many roads did St. Augustine

follow before he became

 St. Augustine?

—Mary Oliver, “Don’t Worry”

Sometimes, like weeds break the

    ground we want to grow

swiftly, and right now. We don’t

    want to wait season after season.

We don’t want to push

    through the concrete slab.

We want to shoot from the moist soil

    like a rain lily, who in the night

wasn’t there, then appeared full

     and bright by morning.

Unfortunately, our rate of growth 

    is not our choice.

Yes, we can give ourselves the right

    amount of sun.

Yes, we can mix compost

     to help.

Yes, we can give ourselves 

    the adequate amount of water.

But if we’re the magnolia tree, we’ll

    grow a foot or less each year.

If the Bald Cypress, a good foot

    and a half.

We can’t all be the fast-growing

    River Birch.

If we were, no huge white blossoms

    would hang in the air.

If we were, no cheery wren

    in the Tallow, would be there.

Ahrend Torrey enjoys exploring nature in southern Louisiana where he lives with his husband Jonathan, their two rat terriers Dichter and Dova, and Purl their cat. He holds an MA and MFA in creative writing from Wilkes University in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, and is the author of “Small Blue Harbor” published by the Poetry Box Select imprint (Portland) in 2019. His poetic influences include Anne Sexton, Cavafy, Etheridge Knight, James Wright, Jane Kenyon, Langston Hughes, Li-Young Lee, Mary Oliver, and Walt Whitman.

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