your twig tips swell and soon
will give us leaves, sweet green.
You’ll sprout then wave them patiently,
and drop them in the fall,
as you have, I’m guessing by your girth,
a couple hundred times or more.
You never tire of this,
never tire of losing and greening,
never tire of being an oak.
The day will come when you drop them
and lift them up no more,
but being an oak, that will likely be
long after I have done the same.
Meanwhile I pray
not that you endure, nor I,
but that as long as I do
I never tire of this.
April 12, 2021