In the car’s back seat

I crane my eyes up at 

the Eucalyptus 

of Louisville street 

---

and imagine my parents

sowing a copper-coloured seed,

hopeful and expectant,

as if throwing a coin 

into a wishing well

---

I called it our “family tree”

and outgrew each ashen branch,

until one day they severed the bark

and I smeared my grief 

in the blood of its silver leaves

---

Even now, as the years have passed, 

the Eucalyptus remains 

rooted in my mind:

our family’s sacred offering 

to the passage of time.