The smallest buds on the family tree
flowerless blooms imperfectly fractal,
mere inconsequential relationships
that bear no fruit for us all to link to,
no perpetuation of the surname,
but so much love that summer, cut so short,
flourishes till today, nourished by roots
leading from two infinities, their path 
ahead is forever upward, sky wood,
sun-baked bark against which lovers shall lean,
in a storm, any tree will have to do

cc: Chagall 2022