Ode to a Basswood (1957-2019)

I learned to swing

Underneath your branches. 

I took comfort in your quaking sound,

Your generous shade,

Your deeply grooved trunk. 

I knew that I would survive

If I could borrow your steadfastness. 

You helped me know that there were Timeless and Reliable things in the world. 

It helps even now to know that my beloved Gramma planted you out of spite,

Knowing that spite would grow into deep love,

Would justify itself in the way you lasted.

62 years.

It’s not enough. 

You were cut down in your prime

By people who lost their sense 

Of what they mean,

In a town that’s lost its sense 

Of what you mean:

Dignity. 

Strength. 

Generativity. 

Those things that should...

That must...

Last 

Beyond us.