The Old Tree

THE OLD TREE

The old tree stands in back of the house
Tall, a good 50 feet or so
Its bark like my hair
Graying with age

Solid, a beacon of strength and patience
Created in a time when time didn’t exist
I am in awe of its mystery and beauty
The old tree is a friend of mine

Occasionally in the company of bluebirds, jack rabbits and deer
I make my daily pilgrimage to the old tree
We speak the language of the unspoken
And I am new again

I sit on the back porch
Silently giving thanks to the sunset
Raising my glass in salutation
To a lone bird perched in the old tree
Giving one last shrill cry
Bidding the world goodnight
It’s shadow slowly melting into yesterday

Leaves glistening in rain drops and moonlight
The old tree beckons
I sit beneath its branches protected, hidden
Breathing in the scent of dirt, starlight and dreams

I will take my eternal sleep under the old tree
Safe in the knowing I will never be alone
My body cradled between the roots
Giving all I was
And all that is left of me