My Bamboo Grove

My Bamboo Grove
Rondeau
7-25-13
dgw

My bamboo grove grovels in rains
And snows, and blocks the passing lanes.
His leaf retains the water like
A kind of airborne lake or dyke.
It binds him as would silver chains.

Friend to the necks of watchful cranes,
And the rich man's walking canes,
And the clay warrior's looming pike,
And placard staves when workers strike,
My grove stands tall, when wet refrains.
My bamboo grove.

But with the dew or fog he strains
To lift his burden from the drains,
And, like the fender of a bike,
He bends. He loves his yoke, unlike
Most, so infrequently complains.
My bamboo grove.