Half the cottonwood lies across the
schoolhouse yard. It is not just a limb, its stout girth too much for any
lightweight chainsaw we might use. The tree’s upright half is leafed out in
deep green, the fallen half is trying hard, but only producing small light
leaves. The trunk is still attached and arches beautifully, high enough to walk
underneath. I want to leave it where it is, allowing the reverberation of the
fall to continue.
