Not far from the highway
Two sycamores rise from

The same stump, so alike
In every way they appear

To be twins. But nothing is
Completely identical; lives

Are composed of contrast.
And although from the road

They seem to be greeting
Passersby synchronistically,

It’s just as easy to interpret
One is waving goodbye to

The other: “I’m aware you
Believed we were united,”

One tree says to the other,
Its back turned for a century,

“But farewell. We’re certain
To meet once more—after

All, we have sprung from
The same root for eternity.”

Oh, mirror! We never see
Our eyes—only reflections

In the gaze of new lovers,
The glass of passing cars,

Until, leaving the body we turn,
At last recognizing ourselves.