Street Root

The sidewalk buckles.

Not a crack. A heave.

Dark bark, like a knuckle

pushing, demanding leave.

Concrete split wide.

Grit still clinging, a grey dust.

The tree, unseen, inside

the earth, a silent thrust.

A gnarled fist, brown.

Patient, slow, it grew.

Just to push up, frown

the street, break through.