The Mulberry Tree on Jasper Drive

Edward wanted to cut down

the mulberry tree in the front yard

but found unexpected resistance

in the form of a crying six-year-old daughter.

Hiccuping sobs,

snot running down her nose

into her open mouth

on her tragedy mask face.

“Those berries stain the driveway,”

Edward accused.

“But I eat them every year,

and I never will agaiiiiiin!”

Molly wailed.

“Why do you even want to?

They taste terrible!”

“No, I love them!”

she countered.

“Nonsense!” Edward huffed.

“No one likes eating mulberries.”

“If you cut down the tree,”

she posited between gasps,

“you’ll kill all the squirrels

and baby birds

and their mommies

and daddies will cry forever!”

“Oh for Pete’s sake,”

her father sighed.

“Fine. We’ll keep the damn tree.

But I’m cutting back some of

the branches.”

Catastrophe and murder averted,

Molly wiped the tears and mucus

away from her face,

red with the exertion of her outburst,

and smeared these fluids

all over her father’s shirt.

“Can I have a snack?” she asked him.

“Go eat some mulberries,” he replied.