And So The Ash Tree Grows

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There is a little ash tree growing at the base of the cedars. I hope it grows tall, and I hope I get to see it tall. Someday, after we move away, there will be other people living here. What will they see? Will they know the trees as I do–wandering between their trunks, eyes gratefully skimming the sky? And will they trace the edge of the creek with their fingertips? Smile at the squirrel’s shrill whistle? Play piano so the trees and chickadees can hear through the window? Will they kneel comfortably upon the clay soil, and let the moss mingle with their skin? How will they measure time? By which branch the sun hits? If there are children, will they know to carry a stick in the summer for clearing away spider webs while playing the forest? Or will they wish for grass, as I once did? Would they even notice the ash tree? Would they even notice the cedars?

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