Sugar Maple

I did not apologize to the young Sugar Maple 
as I shoveled a circle of dirt from my front yard, 
preparing to bury her roots a few feet under.
And the sapling did not complain when I packed
the earth back again, or cry when I unrolled the
water hose and soaked that circle of dirt.
For even beneath the heat of mid-July, standing
there planted in my green front yard, we both knew,
the Sugar Maple and I, only there could she be.