Winds Grasp
Life’s brittleness
You may think me daft after reading this, perhaps soft or delusional, not that it will matter much to me for I feel what I feel, I value what I value.
Yesterday afternoon, a beautiful sunny day with strong breeze, looking out over my backyard I noticed something seemed different.
The tree line bordering my neighbor to the south, and neighbor to the west seemed askew as the canopy looked well below where it normally sits royal beneath the sky.
The black vinyl clad cyclone seated in the ground blended into the green as it always did, making it almost invisible of notice.
But in a few areas the treetops suspended just above the fencing as if terribly overgrown. I was confused because just yesterday they were well hung with great distance between the grass and the leaf.
As I neared each area I felt that pulling feeling in my stomach, like hearing bad or tragic news about a friend.
A few trees had snapped off their tops to the west and the one to the south was falling as it pulled from the ground, held up by another in desperation.
This is a special area for me and my copilot, a creek running through it from a river distant to us. This is where Christoper Robbins and Winnie the pooh might visit us in spirit.
Special not just because of childhood memory, but trees who watch over us in smile spiritually.
My majestic trees had sustained injury, only after a previous year of loss to boring insects along the southeastern area.
I know most of you might consider them intimate objects, kindling or simply building materials. Trees are both our past and future, they are representative of life as well as death.
I always held a certain admiration for them, but after being in the presence of the old growth I knew they were much more than we give them credit for.
Even today the forest is the place where magic still exist.
I was both saddened and anxious of the indication that they may be in trouble, for their limbs like ours, do not break without reason.
Walking back to the house I wasn’t looking forward to the surgical cutting, or passing along the news.
Like all things in life loss is part of the cycle, no matter how much it is detested.
