My Aspen at Wallington

My aspen quakes at the least breath of air
and makes a noise like heavy rain as I
sit in the shade, listening to its soothing
song of life-giving droplets, remembered.

In autumn remembers what made it grow
so tall and sturdy and with leaves so broad.
It digs deep to recall from Spring the zing
of refreshment from the pale blue sky. I

thought it didn’t know it was my aspen
but when I touch its bark it quivers so,
surrounds me with familiar pitter-pats
of sound. And, as I walk away, a breeze
gently draws across its boughs. A duet
composed by wind and tree plays just for me.