Interview With a Dying Tree

"Dear Spruce Tree, can you hear me?" I was devastated, trying not to show it. "Yes, I hear you", she replied so gently, "I will let a single cone drop so you know it." "Why do you have to go?", I asked, "You've been here since the children were quite small, through sleepy summer days and frozen winters, each springtime, every harvest-scented fall. She shook her needles restlessly and answered me with whispers thin and soft - "I will never truly leave your lovely garden; I am memories, and earth, and air, aloft. "But who will hold the bird feeder? And the golden star that dances in the breeze? Where will Mama Robin build her nest now? Can you quickly answer all these questions please?" Tired tree, so beautiful, sighed and raised her faded boughs just slightly. "There will always be birds and stars", she said, "Wound through this life so tightly. Nature never really dies; it borrows from itself - eternal flame: replenishes and thrives on love and light. In this way you and I are both the same."