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Do you remember that tree outside of our first grade classroom?
That tree was enormous
It was the color of a dusty elephant
But with flakey skin
You could pick it off and crunch
In the palm of your hand

It must have been dead
Long before it was ours
Never any bugs
Or mold
or moss

Nothing to stop five-year-olds
From laying in its roots

It grew into a “Y” before it died
Split about seven feet off the ground
Perfect for a first imaginary fort
A manhunt hiding spot or a goal post
For recess super bowls

I can remember it
With us sitting beneath it
At five, at eight, at twelve
Sitting Indian-style
Picking blades of grass
To whistle between our thumbs


They mulched that tree years ago
It’s chopped and spread under the new playground
Keeping kids safe from falls
If only we could have explained
How much it protected when it still stood…
They always do work
Even when they are broken
They always do work
Rain falling on a mountain top
one drop at a time, dissolving,
changing, rearranging,
the shape of the world
and so we wear down continents.
one drop at a time.

Thoughts falling on a fertile mind
one idea at a time, dissolving,
changing, rearranging
the shape of the world,
and so we wear down prejudice.
one idea at a time.

Earth collides along a fault line
one inch at a time, building,
changing, rearranging,
the shape of the world
and so we build vast continents,
one inch at a time.

Compassion holds out hands of hope
one kindness at a time, building,
changing, rearranging,
the shape of the world
and so we build community,
one kindness at a time.
If an easy rain
would make the rocks slippery,
he would hold my hand.

— The End —