Fallen

Christine

This birch was the largest on the land, sprung wild from seeds brought ... by birds perhaps ... years before we made our home here. It had grown strong and tall, singular among the oaks and hemlocks, forsaking its usual role as pioneer to shelter in this well-established forest. I thought it strong and grand and it always caught my eye, glowing warm in the morning sun.....glowing even on the bleakest winter days. Now here it lies, shattered, snapped off its base by strong March winds. Now the April air is soft and the last light paints its silver bark with bits of gold. Now I see the curls along the trunk and then the newest limbs with skin as lustrous as fine satin. I walk around and through this tree, gathering a few large sheets of bark, marveling at its complex textures, and glad I hadn't heard it fall.

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