the crepe myrtle

no one notices
the elder crepe myrtle tree
cloaked among
the vines and shrubs
at the edge of a parking lot
in an old part of town


with unpretentious charm
the strong limbs
decked with curling lichens
cup spirited clusters
of bygone blooms.
even in these
November afternoons
the leaf-shedding boughs
generate clouds
of pale light

there are songs that proclaim
the ancient oaks
the bending pines -
tonight i write
of the elder crepe myrtle
at the edge of a parking lot
in an old part of town