The Esperanto of Trees

I traveled with the tallest,
tacking the wind, carrying tales

beyond the world I knew
in the billowing sails.

I always believed in the
gentleness of trees;

the keepers of every footnote
of everything that came to be,

witnessed and handed down
as precious cargo.

To listen (yes, hear the hush)
of a language long forgotten,
like the Esperanto of trees,

before the memories of hominids,
perhaps from their lineage,

before venturing into the hunt
on ancient savanna.

As birds to the dinosaur, who
heard the trees and what they said;

living with the quiet nobles,
nesting in their masthead.