An Accounting of What Can Be Counted and What Counts

An Accounting

We lost enough trees 

planet-wide last year 

to occupy New Zealand.

But how many of those 

were beloved?

How does that count out?

How many had been 

adopted & planted & raised

like a member of the family?

How many were gingkos

that started out as a whip

and grew into a 




annoying the power lines

as it shot up?

How many were lonely Damson plums

on a college campus 

full of Bradford pears?

I planted my son’s placenta

under a Grimes Golden apple.

Tell me how to count that. 





2 Replies to “An Accounting of What Can Be Counted and What Counts”

  1. I think many have personal stories of seeds and saplings that they have planted, then watch grow. Unlike kids, trees are pretty predictable.

    I remember going with my Dad into the fields behind are new house and pulling up a sapling that might havery been a quarter inch thick. We put it in the back yard at the corner of the house.

    We don’t live there any longer, but when I visit and drive by the old house, I can see this huge tree in back of the house.

  2. You and your father and that tree are a whole thing, together, unaccountably . Now I am part of that, us four. That may be the only accounting that matters–us.

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