That's okay, Oak Tree. There's no hurry. You don't have to bring out all those little leaves. You can just keep them tucked in.

Because I know the truth, Oak Tree: every one of those pretty little leaves, all golden-green like in the poem, all sparkling in the dew and bobbing in the wind, after they shade me and make those pretty rustling sounds outside my window on the hot summer nights, will turn beautiful colors, and then fall down. Fall on my deck, on my back yard, my front yard, my garden, my driveway, and a mile radius around my house. And I will have to rake them all.

So just stay bare, Oak Tree. There's no need to greet spring so soon.


PS: And perhaps you needn't bother with those acorns that you like to drop on the roof above my bed all night from July to October. That clatter upon the roof, followed by the rattle of it rolling down, only to bonk off the edge and then bang as it hits the deck below? I could do without that.