sits calmly
wizen & aged
knows the seasons
knows the comings & goings
of many trekkers
along the footed path
knows when to be quiet
or giggle with the breezes
knows when to scatter blessings
to let its children go
knows when to change faces
to blanket the earth
so many trickle by
never once noticing you
as you listen to their utterances
never answering your beckoning call
to share your shelter
until you change your wardrobe
to gold, yellow, and orange
tinted with reds and roses.
If only we could read and listen to the trees.
– August 5, 2008
