Last night the elm finally spoke back

I'm standing in the old yard again, the one where the oak wilt took everything. But the elm that died in '09 is there, and it's wearing my old climbing harness like a belt. It asks me why I stopped visiting, and I can't remember if I'm the one who walked away or the one who got lowered down. Then I'm on the bus and it's just sitting in the seat across from me, roots tucked under its knees, nodding along to someone else's conversation.