Maps

Its a warm summer afternoon.
The lawn is manicured.
An old station wagon is in the drive.
Google Street View suspends a couple standing in the doorway with their dog.

The Midwest plains were dotted with groves of Burr Oaks.
They were navigational aids and an oasis of shade for settlers going west.

I stopped on my way home and took a snapshot of this oak.
I could see it from my office window across the street.
For two summers I watched it cast shadows across a blue house and onto a green baseball diamond. At three each day a fellow with a brace of black Labs would bound west. At four the office would let out, oblivious to the acorns that would proceed the gold leaves of autumn.

I wanted to remember this place.
It marks my place on the map.
After my wife and I and our dog are gone.