Growing Seasons

People tell you, before you're ready to listen.
And when you finally do,

you're surprised to find yourself

already in the tight outer rings, 

the ones that make it hard to count

exactly how many growing seasons have gone by.

It dawns on me, the tree is around the same age
as my granddaughter.

(I will probably tell her, before she's ready to listen.)

Using my finger to count the rings,

smelling the wood, feeling the roughness,
slowing down enough to pay attention.
Hoping someday she will understand
the importance of doing the same.