Clouds I’d watched form on the horizon are now above me pelting me with wind and rain. The charged air matches my mood. With nothing in my view except shingles lifting from roofs my thoughts turn to men’s eagerness to collect gold to glitter wallets and thumbs, ignoring the truth I am the tree that gives them breath. I inhale the vile air to exhale oxygen. Their lungs and my roots branch the same temporal, yet they sing their own funerals with every axe. My sisters have been slaughtered to build human temples of vanity. I was spared to shade concrete, a grand gesture to be their token of conservation.
Angry as the spring storm shaking my limbs, I drop leaves in green fistfuls hoping I will be left bare when the wind releases me. Through a lightening strike I see a face framed in a window near my lowest branch. It is a little girl with her hands raised as if she trying to push back the rain. Her frantic gestures and determination shame me. She has often played in the small plot of grass at my feet. Yesterday a woman lifted her so she could place a dandelion bouquet in the center of the heart shaped scar on my trunk.
With limbs drooping I felt both the storm and anger release me. The blond child in the window begins to clap and twirl. I realize love had come to visit me almost every day. A child full of nursery songs and stories about unicorns was a light I hadn’t noticed. My hours had been spent chasing bitter when hope sat on a pink blanket knitted with giggles and curls telling me tomorrow wasn’t lost.
©Susie Clevenger 2019