On a rise from the river

On a rise from the river

it resides, an aging sentinel

amidst the scrawny upstarts,

stubbornly resisting time

floods disease wind storm

insects rodents humanity

competition from brethren

and it stand, slightly leaning

The ranger estimates age

at 200, a guess as good as any 

because the alternative

is to kill it and count

the rings. It sprouted

when Monroe was

President, a steamship

crossed the Atlantic, 

Californians and Texans

spoke Spanish. It witnessed

Indian tribes battle settlers,

a territory become a state,

a Civil War. Still it grew.

It prospered on this bank

of a small river, bathing

in overflows only

occasionally.

I don’t need to know

its age precisely; I measure

being a tree hugger and

measuring the trunk 

fingertips to fingertips. 

It take three sets of me

to wrap my arms barely 

but completely around.

That’s old, I reckon.

The editors of Tweet6speak Poetry are hosting a 30-Day, 30-Poem Challenge for Earth Month entitled, appropriately enough, Poetic Earth Month. Today, the featured poem is “Back” by L.W, Willingham, and the poetry prompt is to write a poem that ages a tree by memory.