Another One About the Tree

Photo by Landon Parenteau on Unsplash

Seriously, y’all. I love this tree. And I spent a long time in her presence this evening — a much-needed respite from mechanical breakdowns and whatnot.

If I lift my arms and jump

I can reach the lowest hanging branch.

It splits off near the end and frames a crooked bit of sky.

I would call it fingers if I were fanciful or

if I wanted to reduce her to the levels understandable by human eyes.

Such fingers are these branches that sprout more fingers

and at the daintiest ends adorn themselves in splendors

no nail artist could approach.

These are not fingers. This is no hand.

This is the centuries old tree that existed before your life was even possible

and — if humans don’t intervene—

will be there for the next impossible life that comes along.

Your idea of time means nothing to this patient architect of history.