Swaying Pin Oaks wave to me from
my window perch , a veritable sea of gold
and green in contrast to this dark living room
I remember these majestic Water Oaks as
seedlings , held upright by kite string and wooden
stakes
Cedar trees standing o'er twenty feet tall , Wild Plum
trees congregating for a quarter of a mile
Dirt roads at each intersection , a lonely state highway
for riding bicycles and collecting empty pop bottles
Watching afternoon Whitetail Does from July cornfields ,
carving walking sticks from Hickory , climbing
Crabapple trees for midday snacks , canoeing trips on
the Indian Creeks
Where do memories find rest as the body quietly withers away