(a friendship in stillness)
It began in the most mundane of places
a daily glance from the bathroom window,
me seated in silence,
the world pausing
just long enough
for me to notice
the tree.
That tree.
Rooted in stillness,
yet never the same.
Each season writes
a different version of its truth.
In winter,
it stands bare, exposed
limbs like open hands,
holding nothing but sky.
It looks tired, almost forgotten,
but I remember:
it’s meant to be green.
Fall comes like poetry,
and the tree turns to gold.
Not the flashy kind
but the quiet shimmer of morning light
filtering through fragile leaves
that let go slowly,
like old thoughts.
I watch it change.
But the strangest thing is
it watches me too.
It’s there
when I’m tired,
when I’m humming,
when I’m weeping quietly
without knowing why.
It’s there
as I age in small ways,
as I mother,
as I ache,
as I mend.
We are two beings
bound by quiet repetition,
witnessing each other
transform
in the most ordinary moments.
What began
from a porcelain seat
became something sacred
a friendship rooted in stillness,
grown through windows,
nurtured by time.
This poem began in the most unexpected place, my bathroom. Every day, I’d catch sight of the same large tree outside my window, often while doing something as mundane as sitting on the toilet. But over time, it became more than just a tree. It became a quiet witness to my life, and I to its changing form through the seasons. I started to feel that we were watching each other, transforming side by side in stillness. That’s how this poem came to be: a reflection on the beauty of unnoticed rituals, of silent companionship, and the deep connections we sometimes form without even trying.
© 2025 Valentina DuPont. All rights reserved.
This poem and its accompanying text may not be copied, reproduced, or distributed without the author’s written permission.
Poems From The Kitchen Table 
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