We lost another old friend down at the studio. I noticed she was leaning to the left just a few days before it happened. I am quite certain another will grow in her place, and the wood will make for many good fires in the wood stove.
Still, I hate to see her go.
Herein follows a poem in honor of all those we don’t want to lose:
Said the Old Tree
“I got tired and fell,” said the very old tree,
but I knew that it was time for me
“To return to the arms of sweet Mother Earth —
the loving one who gave me birth
“From an acorn that fell 200 years ago,
or could it have been 100 more?
“I do believe I lost track of time
during the long and fruitful life of mine.
“Standing majestic, straight, strong and tall
against the storms of spring and the winds of fall.
“Until that day I started to bend
and could no longer resist what I knew was the end.
“So I laid down to rest on the ground from whence I came,
not caring that I will never be the same.
“For another will sprout from my decaying bones,
and keep my eternal spirit from ever being alone.”