Memory Tree

By John I. Blair

A tree wears its heart
On its sleeve
Far more than any human lover
For all its vital juices
Pass just beneath the surface
From the taproot to the crown.

So when I walk across my garden
To greet the sturdy pin oak
I planted more than twenty years ago
After giving salutation
(Using words a tree might know)
I touch its trunk, its bark.

Though I’ve never felt a pulse,
The thought is there
That an entity dimensional
I can only sense by feeling
Exists, and it is
Feeling me as well.

If trees have memories
It may recall the day I bought it,
Young and supple, in a plastic pot;
It may recall the hour I labored
To dig an ample hole,
Fertilize the base, fill round it,

Tamp it down and give a drink;
But likely it’s forgot.
I think trees remember storms,
Wind, rain and blazing heat;
Remember nesting birds,
Cheeky squirrels, snow.

But still I visit often, touch,
Talk, stand there in a wishful hope
That someday years away
It will remember me.

©2011 John I. Blair

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