Wednesday – 01/13/2021 — This is a tree coming upon the end of its life cycle. It died a number of years ago, and I had to have the top of it cut off, including all its dead branches that had been raining down on my house periodically. But since the trunk was leaning well away from the house, there was no danger in simply letting the branchless remainder of the tree quietly do its end-of-life thing(s).
For one, it’s provided a growing place for countless fungi, lichen, vines, and unidentified species of flora. As well as a sheltering place for countless bugs, various crawly things that aren’t insects, and birds—like the woodpecker who carved out a nesting hole way at the top.
Eventually, I know it will crash its way down into the forest behind my house, but in the meantime this dead tree is alive. I can almost hear it singing when I stand close to it. Even once it has fallen, it will continue to provide for the forest denizens—as a hiding place (all those holes!), a feasting place (all those insects!), a place of beauty for this resident human to enjoy (and maybe to sit on as I eat a picnic lunch).
If that’s not a poem, I don’t know what is.
