Caught Along the Veins of a Sugar Maple She sat along the horizontal planks staring up deep into the golden fringes waiting, expecting the wind to answer. Each day mimicked the next A routine walk, Same familiar yard growing a tree she claimed her own. Hours passed in the fibers of her speaking loudly to the core of branches overseeing her presence. She can’t remember the girl who grew up there but clings to the helicopters that drift each Fall, hoping they’ll remember her. ©Courtney Elmlinger