My father had named each tree he’d
Planted those forty years—sometimes fool
Names like Burden or Stump, after a choice
Laying in, sometimes decorous tags like Red
Promise or Border Seer, when his tools
Aspired to scepters and Nature’s voice
Dared speak through father’s carved walnut plaques.
Trees planted in lines spoke our neighbors’ purpose,
Ordered and docile, fit for a calendar;
But father made earth his sealing wax
And left his conceit upon the surface:
A last green word to the patient stars.
Planted those forty years—sometimes fool
Names like Burden or Stump, after a choice
Laying in, sometimes decorous tags like Red
Promise or Border Seer, when his tools
Aspired to scepters and Nature’s voice
Dared speak through father’s carved walnut plaques.
Trees planted in lines spoke our neighbors’ purpose,
Ordered and docile, fit for a calendar;
But father made earth his sealing wax
And left his conceit upon the surface:
A last green word to the patient stars.