Mourning The Giant Tree

The tree always waited for me at the edge of every new morning its thick branches of blue-green needles hiding the mysteries of God's little creatures the sparrows and the wrens the finches and the mourning doves and their nests but not hiding the presence of all their baby birds demanding loudly something to eat and eat right now. . It is a fine way to greet the new day sitting on a rocking chair on the porch the porch my Father built all by himself so many years ago... It is a grand porch to sit upon morning, afternoon, or evening rain or shine because my Father built a strong roof over it all by himself in the winter of his life for the love of his life, the beautiful Anna Louise. . The day came when the lilac bush I gave them reached the end of its time and I came home from college to find it gone and a baby tree planted in its place to someday give shade for the love of his life, the beautiful Anna Louise. The years passed as years tend to do and the tree grew taller and wider and oh so beautiful for the love of his life, the peaceful cove of his life, the beautiful Anna Louise. . My children were born and I carried them to visit their Grands in the shade of that beautiful tall tree with all its sparrows and wrens chirping and singing and when the grandkids were old enough to walk and then to run around and around that giant tree the mourning doves came flying out of the east with lovely white tails fanned out as they landed in the deep shadows of the giant evergreen tree cooing to each other and making their nests with the sparrows and finches and wrens all living in the deep shelter of that tree together and their descendants came back every spring for forty years for forty years they came and the giant tree grew bigger and bigger. . The years have passed and so have Mom and Dad but I still sit in that old rocking chair upon that old porch my Dad made for the love of his life, his gentle high-school sweetheart, his Anna Louise. And I celebrate their life, he a fireman in his youth and she a nurse in her middle years, by creating a container garden on that big porch of petunias and gardenias and carnivals, a riot of color and sweet night fragrance to whisper to them in their new home in the stars. . I have bird seed hanging for the birds under the giant evergreen tree and a pool of cool clear water in the bird bath by the porch and they come to me where I sit on the porch rocking in my father's prized chair and they peer at me cocking their head from one side to another and when I smile and chuckle low they fly from the porch railing to the hanging baskets where they start plucking out the straw to feather their nests, the thieving little chirpers. . Time has passed as time tends to do yet I still sit on that old rocking chair upon that old porch that my Father the fireman built for his beloved, the sweet and gentle nurse, Anna Louise but I no longer bathe my soul in the sight of that beautiful giant bird-nursery of a tree it is gone gone in a blazing inferno from firecrackers set at its base by teenage boys for their cruel entertainment all those years gone in minutes and all the baby birds burned in their nests and many of their poor parents dying trying to protect them and all of those years and all those memories wrapped up in the branches of a giant fir tree burned to ashes gone in a raging tempest of fire its time on earth passing as all life on earth passes leaving nought behind it not even the memories of a lovelier time after I too pass taking all my memories with me. It will be as if the tree and me and the love of a man and a woman never existed all will be gone not even shadows will be left. . . ~~~~~~~©August 17,2023 by Susan Williams