Do trees have memory?
Trees have rings that tell about good years
and bad years, storms and droughts.
In the front yard a giant red oak, right on the road,
one hundred feet high and two hundred years old.
Born of an acorn around the time Maine became a state,
severed from Massachusetts.
What stories it could tell,
of wagons and horses, Volvos, and Mercedes.
So much coming and going.
So much weather.
So much change.
Someone could just cut it down to have a better view of Cadillac Mountain.
Does the Universe care?
Probably not, but we do,
and that is enough.
Each year there are thousands of acorns,
each one a mighty oak.
