Be careful as you walk behind the shed.
This bush has thorns; these rocks can make you trip.
But there you'll see a stump amid the brush.
It's not too special: moderate in size,
And brown like any other stump you'll find.
It stays behind the shed, unmoving, still.
There is one thing you'll notice if you look:
It's fifteen saplings growing from the sides
And edges, tending upward, spreading out.
They seem a crown around this old brown stump.
One day I peeked behind the shed and saw
That half the baby trees had fallen down.
Their trunks were bent and splintered near the base.
I called my children over, asking what
They knew about the injured, flattened trees.
My daughter asked a question of her own:
"Will you be mad?" It bent my knees and broke
My pride. "I won't be mad, but can you see
These trees you tried to climb are sad and hurt.
They need a friendly touch and cannot hold
Your weight yet. Please be nice to them, okay?"
"Okay!" My son exclaimed and off they ran.
I took some twine and tied the trees back in
Their place; they're standing, skyward, all again.
And as they grow the stump will stay below,
Its deep roots grasping ground and holding tight
To earth. The stump will live behind the shed
And work to help the new life find its place.