DOUBLE PLUS PEACE BABE

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After centuries of serving the finest shade this side of the Atlantic to the residents of Cobourg, this grand old tree standing west of the Bandshell, presents a final salute to all visitors to the park. The poem below was published in my first book of poetry, Walking On the Greenhouse Roof, 1969, and refers to a tree that stood near Hull's Corners, however, there is much in the poem that lends itself to this great stump which has found a new role to play in this park.

TREE

Large, thick with the offerings of a generous soil
your branches spread like a genealogy of religions
tripping wild breezes
weaving sun and air to clothe fields.

Your identity was sure,
individual.
Your shadow was largest among cedars and pines.
You were hippie when summer fled like a skittish kitten.
Winter spears were harmless to your bare courage.

While my friends attended Sunday School
asking unanswerable questions
proofs of things higher than themselves
I played in your fortress of shade.

You were my favourite tree.
We cast fantasies in the grass;
I built castles and you occupied them with invaders dropping from your boughs.

(You were there when Indians took this land for granted)

You were detached from the sufferings and urgencies of men.
Depression never strengthened your will;
you were strong.
War never scarred you;
irritated rumps left tufts from their scratchings
and they were your honoured medals;
all animals favoured you, marking turf, leaving messages

Affluence never softened you;
the rigors of winter saw to that.

I remember how your branches held my thoughts
for the inspections of wind.
We became a religion offering silence.

I am older now
filled with questions suffering for answers.
My friends are satisfied with my exact curiosity.

Yesterday
I remembered when we were perfect;
I went to you
finding an on-ramp entombing your roots
tires crushing our favourite castles;
on a free way.