Positioning

I didn’t count the rings
on the oak we took down

—crane and all—but think
there must have been a hundred

or more.   I’d rather,
I’m sure, count the hairs

on your head
or finger the span

of your spine, my hand
on your smooth skin,

until we are old enough
to have limbs

that can no longer bear
the weight of a high wind

or surprise snow.

Rose Marie Berger is a Catholic peace activist and poet. This poem is part of an unpublished collection.