Old friend you stand there leaning
over the back bedroom
both spirit of the forest
and guardian of the home

Your bark grown black and wrinkled
with the lichen's green overlay
deep furrows speak of your age
of wiinters and hard rains

It's seventy years this summer
since my father bought the place
you were already a sturdy tree
though a third your present size

You've lost two of your branches
sawed off when someone thought
the roof to be in danger
the scars show where they cut

Returning again to the island
as I've done through the fleeting years
I place my hands on your roughness
and sense a welcome there

A welcome from one who's stood steadfast
while I've hurried hither and yon
such differing lives you and I
it's reminding me of a song

A song from Argentina
sung by that country's great bard
Atahualpa Yupanqui
his voice and his guitar

His words speak of the sorrows
that come with moving on
leaving behind as we all do
some part of who we are

The tree you have forgotten
always remembers you
inquiring of of the night
are you happy, yes or no

El árbol que tu olvidaste
siempre se acuerda de ti
y preguntale a la noche
si serás o no feliz