Learning The Names Of Trees Poem by Gordon R Menzies

I wander by riverside grass
learning the names of trees,
watched by curious magpies
who know, I think, as I do
that these old roots dig deep,
and drink there, deeper still,
pulling up the lost histories
whispering them to the breeze
and attentive squirrels, gone
mad with the knowledge, so
eager to know more they
race about planting new ones
hoping they will mine deeper
chewing their homes in old trunks
listening through the night
huddled together with their kin
gleaning more of the things
the trees will not speak of
aloud, in the company of men
because these lengthy names
I am committing to my memory
are not their own, and squirrels
hoard their secrets like seed