The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh“The Trees,” Philip Larkin
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.
This is my favorite tree (at least among the trees I have encountered so far). Its ancient branches stretch across a trail that runs along the Intracoastal Waterway. I like to think about how many hurricanes it has triumphantly endured every time I pass it.
It has a great view too.