An Asymmetric Canopy

 Outside in the gluey air - hot August night,
the red maple stands as full as it can be
it spreads over the traffic lane and walkway
in an asymmetric canopy; I marvel
at the  seeming infinity of shiny leaves;  so dense
that the waiting beams of moon, Mercury,
and distant stars whose ancient light I'd see
are caught behind a wall of verdant density.

It is a snapshot of life and choices
that I watch one thing and listen
 to the voices of my past, coordinating
disparate things into an even more amazing being--
the thought-filled flow--the living river of life.

And while we do not touch, it's an illusion we trust,
the rivers within us seem to know each other
sharing flood and want, time and treachery, they know
the tug of the world ,the heat of the sun, and that all will end
that has even begun; and that patient water can carve
stony mountains that stand in its way.

All this as I consider the maple outside, and the fullness
of its branches in the hot August air, an asymmetric night