Tree and I

I have long been proud to be

Contemporary to a tree.

It was a whisper at the start,

With budding limb and joyous heart.

I was then a stripling too,

Vain of stature as we grew.

But not for long would I look down

Or set my hand upon its crown.

A summer came, and two and three,

And it had far outdistanced me.

Long autumn winds, and mischievous,

Conferred gnarled limbs on both of us.

I reached to break me off a staff

And know I heard the old tree laugh.