Ode to Cimarron
Family tree, oh family tree!
Your roots run very deep.
They've been in this northern New Mexican soil
longer than any other tree still standing.
Your branches twist and sway in the winds.
but your leaves do not blow away.
What has the loco wind done to you, Tree?
Your branches have wound round and round.
Where once there were two, now there is one.
Where once there were three, now there is one?
From your leaves caught up in your basket of branches,
new branches appear and appear and appear.
This poem has been inspired over and over and over again. I have helped to teach religious ed classes for work, and in nearly every class, there are cousins. Most any day talking to anyone about anyone, I hear, "Oh that's my auntie," or "He's my cousin." One of the older women introduced herself to me as a cousin, technically my father-in-law's cousin or second cousin or something. At the funeral for our neighbors' father this weekend, she was there, and Marie told me she is the sister of the deceased. My Tio Tony commented after the funeral that around here, everyone is related to everyone. It kind of makes you wonder....