The Hole

Dedicated to The Great Pine, William & Isabella, and all the other unnamed trees, standing or fallen, on our property and across the world who have stood the tests of time.

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It grows

Strong and tall.

It stands

Unshaken

Through storm, cold,

Wind, and drought.

It holds

In its bosom

A cup of hair and twigs.

It stands

And shades any

Beneath its canopy.

It ages,

Slowly at first;

It dries

And its needles shrivel.

Its arms droop,

But it stands.

It shakes

As metal bites bark;

It trembles

And quivers at each blow,

But it refuses

To fall.

It sways

And gravity pulls.

With a sickening swoop

And terrific thud,

The great pine falls.

It stands no more.

It lies,

Battered and bruised.

The splendour of strength

Has vanished

With one shudder

As tree hit earth.

It’s gone.

The great pine tree

Is gone.

In its place there stands

A stump

With one hundred rings.

It’s gone,

And all that’s left

Of its glorious height,

Its shade and might,

Is a great big hole

In the sky and in my soul.

Am I the only one who cries over cut trees?