In Passing a Tree
I passed a tree
And wondered
How many things it had seen
How many more perhaps than even me
I wondered if trees could hear
What happens in the woods
The things that sleep in the branches
And the feet that move among them in the night
I wondered if they could know things
And whisper their stories
To one another
Like secrets
I wondered if they liked to move
When no one was watching
Or if they truly
Couldn't
I wondered if it saddened them
To remain there for all their days
To stand until they meet a howling wind
Returning to the ground from which they grow
But if movement is relative
Then nothing is still
So in passing a tree
The tree passes me
And if they remember the years
And the birds that nest
And all that happens in so long a life
Who then has traveled farther than a tree?
It's sad to think
That even on my two feet
I'll never see the things the trees have seen
I'll never be the places they have been
Without leaving their birthplace
Without moving away
From where the giants' roots take hold
And where for good they stay