Kentucky runs in its sap
elevated up its straight trunk
nurturing in its sweetness and yet
tart as a poor substitute for coffee
under its protection, a
canopy over my head
keeping the sun out of my eyes
yet letting in the warmth I crave. its
coat holds a seed
only it won't let go
food for mastadons
finally releasing the trap
easing the need to reproduce, yet
everywhere I look the mastdons are gone
timeless in outliving its friends
rare even where most common
every time my friend when we meet
each tree unique in what it says to me
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