You are not my tree to own, nor were, nor could be But I have bought the ground on which you stand Down to a certain depth. And so you are My keeper, for as many years as we Remain. My God, I hope for many years. I will maintain your limbs as long as both Of us shall live: Both of us beneath This roof, scattered with the needles dropping From your limbs. I will maintain this roof Above our heads and shelter from the rain Beneath the roof of your great limbs. The years Are real because you stand here, thick with years. O Cedar! I counted them in dollars til I saw you; Now I count them in green needles turning brown, In the fragrant crown of branches moving skyward, In the inches of black earth beneath the grass.
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Beautiful poem, beautiful cedar. Congrats!
"I counted them in dollars til I saw you", great line