Ginkgo – a poem by Rita Moe


We survived Hiroshima 
and the comet.

Our lineage predates the dinosaurs. 
Our growth rings can number in the thousands.  

We meet pollution with dogged resilience
and our seeds & leaves are said to cure all ills.  


	It weights 
	each twig.  

And so we cherish our autumn ritual: 
Lighting our heights in a shine of goldenrod,
and then—


in a single day, 
loosing each leaf from its aerie—
a shower of shimmering maize 
circling each tree with a platter of gold.  

Rita Moe’s poetry has appeared in Water~StonePoet Lore, Slipstream, and other literary journals.  She is the author of two poetry chapbooks, Sins & Disciplines and Findley Place; A Street, a Ballpark, a Neighborhood.  She has two grown sons and lives with her husband in Roseville, Minnesota. 

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