Just like the rabbit behind the house, I sought shade the width of my body. It was the last afternoon of my fallen tree. We strip it to bare bones bit by bit until all that was left was the long forked line of its trunk. I laid down in its shadow with the wind blowing and the tree creaking. How much warning would it give if it were to fall? I didn’t like the risk of it and yet I did. It was a way to be united with the tree. If it failed, I would fail too. While I lay there, a robin flew onto the long arching trunk. It didn’t seem to notice me. Perhaps we were one… my tree and I.