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I love this poem - it's reminding me of when I was very young, maybe 10? My father came home from the nursery with a tree. My brother and I teased him (and the poor tree) mercilessly. Calling it a "twig."

Fast forward - that tree, last I saw it, was mighty and marvelous. Miraculous.

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Jenine Bsharah Baines
Jenine Bsharah Baines

Written by Jenine Bsharah Baines

J…Jen…Jeni…Jenine... Proper names are poetry in the raw. (W.H. Auden) Poet, singer, seeker, hippie grandmother gleefully revealing herself

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