i love listening to old trees. almost as much as i love listening to old houses.
this is an apple tree down the road in front of an old barn.
(i like listening to old barns too)
to listen to their whispered secrets in the wind,
imagining what they might have witnessed over the years.
did children climb you looking for apples?
were you witness to impromptu games to football, baseball or catch?
did you bow your branches in sorrow as the hearse carried them away?
or did you raise your branches in honor as you heard Taps being played?
how many nests did you shelter? how many baby birds learned to fly as they leapt off your branches?
how many deer came to graze on the apples that you dropped for them?
i love listening to old trees ...