Trees + Flutter

Last winter, half a tree came down from the weight of snow. Half of a whole, that once provided shade relief. The tree forked five feet up from the ground and the gentleman who came to cut it apart told us it had been growing bark on bark from the fork. There was no connectedness between the two halves. They simple grew up on their own from a base well below the surface. The gentleman, then covered in saw dust, also told me the half still standing shouldn’t have any problem carrying on, they weren’t connected after all. That was at the end of winter and now it’s the middle of June. Flowered gardens are in bloom, the sky is a summer blue that makes time irrelevant, and the half of the tree that is standing is covered in brown leaves. The soft breeze rocks the trunk in unsteady ways. I’m faced with a choice, to let the tree stand or perform a mercy killing and take the grand four story tree to the ground. What loneliness does a tree feel without its second half? The inability to cope with losing what was barely connected to begin with. The justification to want to want to die in the face of missing just a sliver of what made you whole. Even without that small piece you are never the same, you are fractured, an incomplete vision of what once was an unable to move away from the gap that is left.

◾️ ◾️ ◾️ ◾️ ◾️

flutter

the morning air calls you sweetly
by a name only the air knows
to the place in the lawn
where the grass is still cool
and the air promises summer
promises wonder
promises calm
promises