One hundred and sixteen souls,
counted with care.
My inspiration
on a quiet afternoon
to get to know those who live
around me.
Mostly oaks, some spindly
and just beginning,
others like grandfathers
with wide open arms.
A towering pine that was a
miniature Christmas tree
twenty-five years ago.
The sycamore planted
before our daughter was born.
An elm, that shades
where we sit on the patio.
Mulberries lining the driveway,
their leaves dessert for the deer.
And a small eucalyptus grove,
where trees are tall enough
for the hawks to nest.
To each I say, I see you.
I honor your presence,
and gritty patience
with battering winds,
sunbaked earth,
birds that squawk and titter
from your branches.
Being the guardians
that you are, I can believe
you love all of this.
Beautiful, sacred trees,
I see you more clearly now.
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