Jimmy Considers Dendrology
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The trees in my hometown are tall. And old.
So old and so tall they attract
tourists. Tourists look up. We look down. We know
the real action is far below their fancy boots. We understand
what’s at work: the far-reaching intricate pattern,
ancient roots crisscrossing the darkness
somewhere near the water table, anchoring
everything above precisely in place.
When we were kids, Danny and I climbed.
One tree, near Three Corners, was so tremendous
we could watch tankers slipping past the bay.
Danny is gone. The tree felled. Below
the stump, black, mud-slick veins
wait for the body’s return.
— Jason Marak
