Elegy to a Wild Cherry

 

The Choke Cherry is gone

cut by a beaver.

I miss the cherry

my calendar of the seasons

Before the new leaves strings of white flowers

Followed in Summer

by small colorful berries

In Fall the leaves turned yellow

Announcing that time was coming for the long winter rest.

A tree is more than a sum of its parts

With the flowers there are bees

With the fruits hordes of avian aerialists eager to feed

I ponder how we were surprisingly alike, the tree and I

Both products of nature

Each, in its own way “hibernating” through the winter

And bursting with growth and activity with warm weather

I miss the tree

But better,

yesterday I saw a young shoot coming up from the old roots.

I will not live long enough to see my calendar again

But my grandchildren will.

                                                                         Lois W. Kelley