So, we had a storm. It wasn’t the first (or worst) storm we’ve ever experienced and it won’t be the last. But this one did bring down our big and beautiful Swamp Cypress tree.
The tree that was as tall as the tower and probably two hundred years old.
So FarmGuy and I began clearing it away after the wind died down. We’ve still got work to do tomorrow. And then we’ll need to remove the remaining trunk for various reasons.
I could have cried (but I didn’t because FarmGuy would have taken the piss). This is going to change the entire look and feel of the garden. I have lost a friend.
Anyway. I’m going to inflict my mediocre poetry on you now because no death should go without some form of eulogy, however poor.
Today I Dismembered You, Old Friend.
Today I dismembered you, old friend.
I took your sinewy strips of red bark
and narrow, crackling fingers
and put them on a bonfire.
I sliced your white fibrous limbs
into fat chunks for later.
It is a violation, a betrayal, a chore.
Can it be an honouring?
The incense scent of your sap
and the green grit of your lichens
are smeared across my skin.
I will miss you.