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Bending The Old Tree merges the old tree and the beloved body in a brief erotic lyric where eyelids, tongue, hair, and feet are charged with concentrated attention.

It is intimate without trying to be elaborate. The poem trusts tactile detail to carry desire.

Under the title 'Bending The Old Tree,' the poem is built entirely of micro-gestures of devotion: to 'Flutter the slightest space / of my eyelids / Way within / her long black hair,' then to 'Move the elasticity / of my tongue / Over the balls / of her perfect feet.' Worship descends from eyes to hair to mouth to feet, the aging speaker bowed at extreme close range; the title's old tree bending makes the act both reverent and physically strained.