“The Tree in Our Back Yard” and “A Short Poem About Possible Muses,” by Holly Day

The Tree in Our Back Yard

She kneels on the ground beside me, and I put the tiny earpieces in her tiny ears

hold the silver disc of the stethoscope up to the peeling white bark of the river birch

press it firmly against the tree. I hold my breath and watch my daughter’s eyes

grow wide with delight

as she picks up the slow pulse of the sap moving through the tree, heavy and regular

as a heartbeat. “I hear it!” she whispers excitedly, reaches out with one hand

to pat the tree as she would a large dog, or an elephant, or something magical

from one of her delightfully incomprehensible dreams.

Once, her brother knelt beside me where I lay on my bed, this same stethoscope

dangling from his own tiny ears, the silver disc pressed against my swollen belly.

“I can hear her!” he whispered excitedly, finally, the pinch of worry gone from his face

as he felt his sister move. There are so many other things I could write about here

of all of the days I waited to for the tiny fish wriggle of my daughter to come

but all that matters is that we are here now, by this tree. All that matters is this moment, right

now.

A Short Poem About Possible Muses

after the repair man leaves

I start to wonder

how many of my recent poems

were inspired by the gas leak in my office.

Holly Day’s poetry has recently appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction, Grain, and The Tampa Review. Her newest poetry collections are In This Place, She Is Her Own (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press), A Wall to Protect Your Eyes (Pski’s Porch Publishing), Folios of Dried Flowers and Pressed Birds (Cyberwit.net), Where We Went Wrong (Clare Songbirds Publishing), Into the Cracks (Golden Antelope Press), and Cross Referencing a Book of Summer (Silver Bow Publishing).