I ran an old poem of mine here not too long ago called “Not of Byzantium;” you guys were really cool about giving me positive feedback. (Thanks for that, by the way.)
Then I found an old photo of the tree I described in the poem — “the pine I climbed when I was nine.” I snapped it during a trip to New York two years ago, and it surfaced when I was cleaning out some old computer files. I’d forgotten all about it.
I wish I’d run this photo with the poem.