The leaf falls slowly from the branch.
It dances briefly in the air
Before it lands softly on the ground.
Hundreds more will make their decent,
before the tree is naked and alone.
The summer was average and hot.
In July the tree was hoping for rain.
It was hot and dry and the leaves looked
old and worn.
The days were long, and on some days,
Never-ending.
The hot breeze was little comfort to the tree,
which yearned for the cool days of May.
August came and there was little relief.
The only solace was the night.
Particularly Sunset.
The time between the endless sun
and the infinite darkness.
Oh those few hours were the reason to go on.
In those hours its branches filled with life.
The songs of the birds were timeless and would
go on far beyond the trees small existence.
Oh those hours were filled with silent joy.
As the sun would set the songs would grow fewer.
And the night would come.
The breeze would pick up at times
and the tree was faced with only its
leaves to listen to.
During the nights the tree would
contemplate its existence.
It had seen the members of six families,
Spanned over four generations.
The children had climbed its branches
and played under its leaves.
Years before one man had put up a tire swing,
that remains there still today.
No child has played on it for several years now,
but it remains.
The rope has frayed and the tire has worn,
but it's there.
Almost like a reminder of,
days gone by.
When the last family moved in,
there were no children to play in its branches
and it was rare to get a visit.
Now the branches have grown weak and brittle.
The sun has taken the color out of the trunk
and the leaves have grown more scattered...
These last few years.
When the wind is strong the joints
moan and creak.
There has not been enough rain...
These last few years.
The roots have not expanded as they should.
The birds still come,
but are quieter as the leaf cover has thinned.
The fall brings realization that there
may not be a spring this year.
The days continue to pass and grow colder.
The last leaf falls in November
and the tree is alone.
Too afraid to sleep this winter the tree
fights to stay awake.
This struggle between the will and destiny
goes on for weeks.
One day, in early December, it begins to snow.
The air is frigid and penetrates its bark.
As the snow piles up on the tree,
it begins to lose the battle.
Sleep begins to become inevitable.
Hours go by and with a weary heart,
the tree gives into the sleep.
The tree begins to feel warm and is
no longer afraid.
Time passes with winter and the spring comes.
The snow melts and the green returns.
The daises sprout and the
world awakens.
The birds return...and yet..
There are no leaves to shield them.
For a moment they sing the timeless songs
of endless summers.
But there is no answer.
In an unknown vigil there are
no songs today.
The birds come from miles around to spend the last day in
the old tree.
Tomorrow the world will move on
and the birds will find a new home.
The tree will return to the earth and the rain will come.
But today is for the reflection on
one tree's last winter.



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