today I walked to the lake
along the way
visiting my trees
the crooked tree
with steps built in
came first
spots of red
painted on its bark
looking seasonally festive
then the row of cottonwoods
lining the river bed
deep-lined trunks
with stories in their crevices
up the hill
and around a bend
to the row of tipping trees
each at a different
angle of repose
even one lying flat against the river bed
I walk in the canopy
shaded from the sun
by their now-bare trunk shadows
at the top of the hill
just before the lake path
stands the old majestic grandfather
its trunk a yard across
its branch pointing the way
to the lake
slipping in mud
all the way down
I come across the weeping willow
even in winter
its bare branches
drape elegantly to the ground
and the stand of pines
off to the right, stands tall
proudly in season this month
then around the lake shore
I see the bushes
reflected on the surface
alongside mountains
clouds
sky
rounding the path
to head back home
I look back at my trees
to bid farewell
for now
to my tree friends
