George Lober

Rainbow Eucalyptus

Not the start to the post-pandemic,
post-surgeries, island-return vacation
we expected, our first morning walk
cut short by your knee, your hip,
my knee, my hip, both of us worn
from yesterday’s flights and heading
back to our cottage when you said Look!
and pointed to a rainbow eucalyptus
standing in a ray of light with strips
of bark scattered at its base,
and new bark glimmering, alive
with streaks of yellow, orange,
green and purple thick as paint.

How we stood there staring,
you unsteady on your feet, me grayer,
shorter, paunchier than five years ago,
our former selves scattered over
half a decade, and yet, somehow,
you smiling at a clearing sky,
a shedding tree, its vibrant bark,
while I stepped forward to take
a picture, hoping to catch more
than just the light, a reminder
of the way you still see each day,
what it sheds, what it brings.

© George Lober, 2024
George Lober

Books by George Lober