This is The Lonely Queen:

I see her on my walk most mornings, standing tall, elegant, and solitary against the sky.

She has seen years. She has seen hardship. Some of her limbs were cut away long ago and the scars have healed.

I do not know how many centuries she has stood there. There are no comparable trees for at least half a mile. She is alone, without company.

Sure, she has a thriving hedgerow beside her, but they are a court of juniors and none will ever be her peer.

She should be part of a forest, probably hacked down long ago. Or maybe she was a windborne fruit, dropped by a passing bird, an orphan of nature.

Trees talk to each other.

They secrete chemicals on their leaves that can message other trees about threats from disease or insects. They can share through their roots via the fungal network on the soil. We may not recognise this as communication or conversation. But what would opinionated apes know about tree talk?

Trees have time on their side, they don’t have to natter like starlings. If it takes a decade for a tree to say “Hello”, that’s fine. We might not even notice such a slow message system.

I wonder, if you greet a tree with “Good morning”, in a hundred years’ time, will it suddenly say, “Good morning to, Oh, where’s he gone?”

But, the Queen has no kin nearby and she must stand alone for ever.

I hope this is well with her and I hope she will be standing long after I have gone.