Staying On

American Chestnut, a survivor                      jo'b   

I have traveled far

under the chestnut tree,

or so it seems,

so many have I left behind,

or maybe they left me behind,

staying on as I have,

watching the sky go by,

the seasons flutter past,

the birds leaving and coming back,

(oh, the coming back,)

a few humans rounding the bend

on the lower gravel road,

the children with sunlight in their hair,

running joyful in the oatfield,

growing, setting sail,

eight good dogs wandering off

to lie down under the old apple tree,

too many good women waving farewell,

each night the stars a little dimmer,

a little farther off,

as I add another annual ring,

each day a little firmer in the ground,

still putting down my roots

under the chestnut tree,

traveling far.