The Old Dead Tree
I sat alone near an old dead tree in the forest
Fallen bark hanging in the limbs and branches of new growth,
as if she was giving herself to them
Surrounded by her offspring,
which carry her heart and speak her name in their flickering leaves
Once vibrant and strong,
now crumbling, broken, and alone, in her inevitable demise
The many secrets of the forest she has known,
the storms endured, the winter winds and bitter cold
The nesting birds, the warm summer sunlight she reached for,
as if to touch the heavens, all glorious and green
Her leaves that once fell to earth,
season after season will fall no more
Now, she gives back, moment by moment, year by year,
to the ground from which she came, slowly consumed by the landscape
The scars of life have ravaged her, and left her vulnerable and frail,
naked and exposed, at the mercy of time, and decay
Still standing tall, yet she will not stand much longer
Just one tree, as just one life,
beautiful in her time, now to me more beautiful in her death
As the wind whispers through the new growth,
she stands in stark contrast to the world around her
We live, we grow, we blossom, we die,
We give back
As an old dead tree in the forest
As for me,
I will remember her!
Copyright © Roy Wilde | Year Posted 2024
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