every time they visit,
we pilgrimage this homemade trail
the oldest asks, are we going to see your tree?
the youngest wants to find if he has one
as we walk, we stop to listen to the sounds
of a Steller’s cackle and the Wren’s song
the children don’t yet ask to know the names
of birds, and i hope there still time for that
they spot my tree before I do
but they won’t dash, instead
they both stand as altar boys
on the side of the path that leads
to this caved Douglas Fir
the boys wait for me
as i share my confidences
with her old bark
my cheek softens at her touch
my arms extend around her girth
why do you love this tree so much?
a good question that requires an answer
we look at the base of the tree
filled with seed-scatterings of squirrels
and her hollow middle
where she holds the web of an Orb weaver
—to the kids delight, and we look up
this tree is full
of gnarly epicormic branches,
the oldest child takes my hand to compare
it’s not the prettiest tree
or the biggest or oldest
no, i agree
but it’s my youngest that surprises me,
i know why, nana,
look, the branches on the very top
still have green
the tree is just like you
Poem by Amelia Díaz Ettinger
Amelia Díaz Ettinger is a Latinx BIPOC poet and writer. Her published books include Learning to Love a Western Sky by Airlie Press, a bilingual book of poetry, Speaking at a Time /Hablando a la Vez by Redbat Press, and a chapbook, Fossils in a Red Flag by Finishing Line Press. A forthcoming poetry collection, Between the Eyes of the Lizard and the Moon, will be published by Redbat Press, fall of 2022. Amelia’s poetry and short stories have been published in anthologies, literary magazines, and periodicals. She has an MS in Biology and MFA in creative writing. Her literary work is a marria