Roots and Branches #DVersePoetics

Half this family tree has been watered

until the branches hang heavy with fruit.


We know all the name, if not the faces,

see the resemblance in the variety.


On the other side we know much less,

can’t quite feast on what is left.


There are wanderers in this blood,

apples that fell far and wide and distant.


Strangers in stranger places bobbed,

grew their own trees from loose cores.


People put down roots, grew branches,

spread the distance between lines.








  1. Great answer to the prompt, Carol. I’ve always kind of marveled at genealogy buffs and why they are fascinated by the mere bones of their family tree, but rarely ask the questions how and why and go searching for those juicy treasures to which you refer here. I have always maintained that a good quality journal written by a relative is the most valuable heirloom, even legacy.


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