In fall
the children rest under you,
backs
against your massive trunk,
books in hand,
as you drop golden leaves and acorns
and decorate what lies beneath.
In winter,
a tall skeleton
dressed in white,
you watch car pools and children
come and go,
while snow buries everything
and you wait.
In spring
your leaves fill the air
with green
as you watch the children
in the field play soccer
and everything-including you-
comes back to life.
In summer,
when the kids are gone
and the heat grows,
you enjoy the silence
while it lasts
but miss the company
of the children.
