MY GRANDFATHER WALKS IN THE WOODS by Marilyn Nelson.

Somewhere in the light above the womb, black trees and white trees populate the world.

It is a March landscape, the only birds around are small and black.
What do they eat, sitting in the birches like warnings?

The branches of the trees are black and white.
Their race is winter.
They thrive in cold.

There is my grandfather walking among the trees.
He does not notice his fingers are cold.
His black felt hat covers his eyes.

He is knocking on each tree, listening to their voices as they answer slowly deep, deep from their roots.
I am John, he says, are you my father?

They answer with voices like wind blowing away from him…..