Trees around here can live
to be a thousand years old,
quietly witnessing everything.

I think of that woman I met
who set up a hammock
in one of the oldest trees,
as high up as a small bird.

She lived up there for weeks
to prevent it from being cut down,
but I wonder if she also
wanted to make sure
the tree wouldn’t die alone,

that she would be there,
as the tree had been for so many,

as a witness.