I don’t know, of course, how trees feel.
But I have a hunch that, for them,
passing through the summer equinox
is sort of like watching your kids turn 21.
The leaves are no longer babies. Their adolescent
giddiness and blush has deepened to green.
And while they’re not quite fully grown,
they’ve definitely matured enough
to have won your respect.
I imagine the trees—who have, after all,
seen generations of leaves come and go—
get a kick out of watching this batch
dancing its way into summer.
They probably smile proudly at how big
they have grown to be, at how strong they are and supple.
They probably chuckle at the way
they strut a bit on their slim branches,
how they give an little extra flicker
when the breezes pass by. From here, across the pond,
they seem to be feeling just fine. No doubt they feel
that special surge that happens
just as you’re moving into prime time.