Spring Herald of Trees

Quiet, still, towering oaks and poplars
stand guard above us, sheltering,
Or among us: small delicate Japanese maples,
friendly dogwoods, cheerful crepe myrtles.
Great trees of the South.
Fragrant pines and magnolias, evergreen and lively;
Blooming tulip trees, flowering redbuds –
Heralds of spring dressed in brightest array.

A tree fell once on my house.
Hurricane Ivan roared in from the Gulf
And ripped the 100 foot white oak
From its shallow bedrock footing.
Its massive stump still scars my yard,
Reminding me of its loss
While its limbs, fallen and broken,
Have warmed my hearth for two winters now.

As a child, I climbed trees,
Built forts beneath them.
They were friends, protectors,
Strong, sturdy, available players
In my make-believe adventures.

Trees wear their scars with grace,
Without shame.
They stand their ground until downed
By disease, or acts of God, or our ingratitude.
Trees stay though cars and people and animals
Move around them, coming and going.
Trees are connected to life, to the soil, to the air.
Their roots reach for water and for an anchor beneath.
Their branches reach for the sunlight
And spread their leaves heavenward.

Oak and maple, poplar and pine.
Dogwood, redbud, magnolia, and elm.
Great trees of the South.
I watch as you awaken to spring
And I welcome you,
Great friends.