This little ficus tree
its trunk all twisted
like a fat snake
coiling upward
headless
no branches
only leaves on tiny stems
the whole at once grotesque
and beautiful
it speaks of that maternal love
that hovers
seeking to grasp
and shape her child
not let him grow
from natural ground
but with roots clipped
held close for safety's sake
within the sheltering confines
of the home
and yet growth happens
life demands its due
held back the bonsai
still asserts its inner drive
shows itself almost muscular
and with care
it will outlive us by some fifty
or a hundred years