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By Edward Hirsch
I want to live like that little fig tree
that sprouted up at the beach last springAll summer its stubborn green fruit
and spread its leaves over the sandy rock.
(tiny flowers covered with a soft skin)The Tree of the Knowledge of Good
ripened and grew in the bright salt spray.
and Evil was a fig tree, or so it is said,I need to live like that crooked tree—
but this wild figure was a wanton stray.
solitary, bittersweet, and utterly free—but could not be blasted away.
that knelt down in the hardest winds
It kept its eye on the far horizon
and brought honey out of the rock.