I want house with a tree out front
the kind of tree whose branches reach out, real low
declaring its domain
at least twenty feet each way
the kind of tree whose limbs are a nest
blocking out the sun
submersing us in shade
giving us space to be alone
the kind of tree with leaves the size of an open hand
that, in the fall, burn red on one side
yellow on the other
and in a sun-drenched October wind shimmer
like all of your favorite memories.