has never seen a wisteria tree.
has seen a willow tree, from a distance, and 
grew up near four cherry trees that would
flower early every spring,  light pink and white petals
only there for a moment-
only to be knocked off
to rot in piles on the driveway, petals
falling onto the asphalt, onto shoulders,
falling all around  and feeling like a dream.
imagines a wisteria tree a little like that-
feeling like a dream.
hearing, somewhere that they're beautiful
when in bloom-
purple? maybe?
light blue? Also a possibility-
wonders what they're like when not,
spindly branches or thick twisting ones,
unsure of the specificities but knows that
it is beautiful because it is real,
somewhere else,
some other frame of reference.
has seen an aspen tree, the Rockies alive with them
standing on a mountain and looking out at the
waves of them and thinking that maybe that the Earth
breathes too, that
it was her chest rising and falling too
slow to perceive with
human eyes.
knows nothing of the aspen's fate from a plague of beetles,
remembers someone describing the trees as
being "eaten alive" but doesn't remember quite
who said it.
has seen a pine tree, climbed its branches as a child,
places warm palms against its trunk now,
every once and awhile looks up and
remembers how it felt-
how what felt?
the beginning of everything-
of looking out into the
sprawling earth as she breathes,
and the vast emptiness of the sky
and feeling alive.
has seen an oak tree, planted one in fact,
has Not seen a redwood.
does not know what a cherry or maple looks like
despite best efforts,
cannot remember the beetles,
despite best efforts,
cannot reach the top of the pine,
despite best efforts,
still cannot picture the wisteria tree.