A poem (kinda?), written 9th August 2026

How many couples have sat together under its branches?
How many families have picnicked in its shade?
How many kids have leant against its trunk to patch up a scratched knee?

How many pigeons have nested in its leaves? (at least two, I can see!)
How many squirrels have gnawed on nuts while perched in its cover?
How many spiders have laid snares to entrap how many bugs?

How many storms has it endured, and branches sacrificed in the process?
How many sunsets have illuminated it with a beautiful golden glow?
How many shooting stars have blazed through the sky above?

How many layers of moss have grown and been stripped away?
How many dying leaves have drifted onto the ground below?
How many roots has it planted in the earth beneath where they fall?

How many others have thought or written these same questions?
How many more could I ask?

How does this tree look upon these countless happenings?
With sorrow, that it has to watch everything begin and end?
Or with Joy, that they happened at all, and it got to play a part?