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.
