That Sandra Kasturi got me to thinking. There is in her collection The Animal Bridgroom a final poem called "Falling" where some lines just drag upon the brain of the dendrologist.

or frenzied whirl of helicopter seed pods
from oaks so distant they blot out even the warm
of shooting stars. Let us praise the falling
Oaks of course have acrons; maple keys (and others) have the shape of helicopter blades. These oaks are very peculiar. They are very, very distant. Alien oaks.

However let us recall that the poem opens:
Let us now praise the falling things that fall
from trees and skies and gaseous nebulas,
These oaks need not belong to our world but we do have access to the strange beautiful world of the poem where they take root.

And so for day 751