Certain trees near my home in the Alberta foothills have become friends. They remind me of some old ones.

Thanks to @wildroofjournal for publishing Old Friends in the November 2022 issue.

OLD FRIENDS

The Twins always see me coming.
They break out in applause—
ten thousand glittering hands
clapping and waving.
I’ve done nothing
to deserve it, I tell them,
but they ignore this,
showering me with praise
and spontaneous twigs.

The Three Sisters grow from one root.
Beneath they are entwined;
above they find their own way
to the sun.
We’ve grown apart
over the years, I say to them,
but they ignore this,
fling their heads at my folly,
dig deeper into our common ground.

The Spruce Stand is a storm shelter.
Rain falls like ugly tears but I am safe
inside their almighty arms.
I can’t go out there.
I’m afraid, I scream at them
but they ignore this,
poking me with sharp fingers,
reminding me I will find
the path home.

Dedicated to the dance moms who can’t dance, my two beautiful sisters, and all who have joined me along life’s pathways.

Photo Credit: Katherine Matiko