19 December 2007 | Vol. 7, No. 4

Arboreal

by TIMOTHY BRADFORD

The trees planted in

the median

follow me. They

could be a kind of peppertree

given the narrow,

delicate leaves, like

children's fingers, the milky-white

sap, and berries

with a spicy, resinous smell.

I try not to look at them,

but there they are,

flaming red and asking

for my attention. The