by Beth Cato
his seedling unfurls from a sidewalk crack
thrusts his way into a gray world
dogs mark him, as do the gangs
spraying bold marks across his skin
he is stoic in the way of trees
concrete and asphalt crackle against his girth
pedestrians scurry past, hunkered, hurried
griping of city maintenance that does not care
summertime children kneel in his shadow
scribble chalk upon the sidewalk, adorn
his bark in names, flowers, and rainbows
he breathes in carbon dioxide and memories
of white horses etched into ancient hillsides
chalk giants stark against verdant green grass
a car coughs past, trash rattles in his branches
he smiles upon his street as roots sink deep