They say if a tree falls
in the forest and no one’s there
to hear it,
then it doesn’t make a
I see so many of my brethren here.
strong, sturdy trunks
and branches fit for nests.
Apple trees offer delicious fruit,
to enormous size,
big enough to drive a car
through the opening in its roots.
From the receptionist’s office,
I see my brethren in abundance.
Their leaves turn gold in the fall
and scatter the ground
with brilliant red, rustic brown, lively yellow.
I don’t need to see their roots
to know how deep they reach.
It’s proof enough that they stand
in a windstorm.
I sit in my pot
and ponder this.
I sit in Styrofoam dirt
and wish that
I too had roots.
I too would stretch my branches to the storm,
but the wind would snap the plastic.