February 13, 2017 § Leave a comment
I moved to a new cubicle at work recently, overlooking the side lawn of the building and a stand of trees in which hawks and small birds like to sit. Several of the trees stand like massive lodge poles; bare of branches for the most part, and dead.
The hawks prefer the tops of the dead trees. They sit in the sun there, sometimes two or three atop the same tall spire of gray wood. Then swoop out in a great spread of wings to soar, or circle, or seize some small creature in their deadly talons.
One of the dead trees the hawks liked to perch in fell over the weekend, no doubt a victim of high winds. The weather turned warm for the weekend, and then strong gusts blew a proper February chill back into the air, frosting the windows of cars left outside last night.
And felling an old, dead tree.
It will probably be removed by our groundskeepers, but I hope they don’t. I hope it lays there, broken over the mound of earth it fell against, slowing decaying back into fertile soil.
Unbecoming a tree, and becoming the future of trees.