protectors
heavy with the care of a short-lived creature
I enter the quiet home
of the great big trees
where all the sounds are softened
they tower over us draped in moss bunting
make us feel small in a good way
a toddler hiding behind her mama’s skirts
now old enough that their grey bark
has grown green
they saw so many cut down
a century ago
and yet here the survivors stand
still rooted
still patiently making shade and air for everyone
despite everything we might do
