To a Young Teak

You’re broad-leafed,

as tall as me,

but there are things

I can do for you.

Fetch you water

in a bucket

as I do for myself,

pouring yours

into the earth,

close to the roots,

and see it disappear,

saving mine for later,

forgetting that seed

is followed by axe

and the felling random

as the dispersal is.