When a Tree Falls

I was at a workshop over the weekend. If you walk along the edge of the parking lot you notice this mass of tangled limbs. If you are like me, you follow to see where those limbs lead.

When was the last time you followed the branch of a tree?

The Father Tree

I didn’t see you the first time I drove by

nor the time I ate my lunch in the grass

two hundred yards away

I saw you when I was bouncing my way along

the curb in the parking lot

nearly oblivious to the annoyingly straight painted lines

meant to pack as many cars as possible into your once

densely treed sanctuary

No wonder after over one hundred years

of looking after the stream you cracked

and fell into that damn parking lot

I could see where someone chopped and

hacked your bits away, likely with a loud saw

temporarily sending the birds and squirrels away

You did your best to fall

in a direction to take that lot back

I couldn’t help but marvel at your strength

and the curves of your branches,

Even fallen, you were mighty and noble

still watching over the sanctuary of the river

I admired how your strongest branches

Supported your curiously hollow trunk

and left a bridge, daunting enough to discourage

the dainty and clumsy-footed

while inviting the curious tree climber

I followed your bridge up and over

down, around, through, and up again

I sat for a moment in the sturdy hollow.

Were I a tree dweller, I would have made

a home with the berries and fungi and mushrooms

softening what remained of your heart

I saw the splinters where you shattered--

the field of daggers still new and unworn

by the rain and winter cold

I climbed atop the hollow sending my own roots

down, down, down

asking you keep my feet sure

The fifteen foot drop would surely be unpleasant

                                                                      

I inched out across your broken back on my belly

I still felt the life moving within you.

I watched the river flow around the bend

I silenced my breath and slowed my fast-beating heart

to listen to the leaves fall in the water

and for the echoing ripples

When you can’t watch over your sanctuary, I will.