bitterdiva

The Mighty Oak

The sharp metal teeth of the chainsaw were no match for the ailing oak tree. He once stood tall and proud shading the residents of the house during the summers. He adored their gratitude as he provided them with the occasional cool breeze. And in the autumn, the children collected his leaves as they fell and gathered them into a pile. The little ones always enjoyed expending their energy as they ran and jumped onto Leaf Mountain. He would laugh as the leaves were forced up into the air and float slowly back down creating disarray on the lawn. He didn’t like winter however. Winter was always rough against his bark as the bitter winds sliced into him. And harsh winter winds always brought breakage, as well as ice did. He preferred the warm mild winds of late spring that brought showers and buds on his boughs.

That was a while ago. Lately he’s been standing or looming over the house. He was progressively getting ill with a blight that had spread up to the north. Every year it encroached his land and he escaped it barely. Until this year, there were no buds or leaves. People would walk by this past summer and became depressed at the lack of green and kick his trunk. He wept but no one could hear him.

The owner of the house watched his death slowly and as the first frost came across the lawn he knew what had to be done. He went out back and oiled up his chainsaw. He ran his fingers slowly against the teeth, ensuring their precision, and walked out front to the tall and once proud oak. Bough by bough they fell until the tree was limbless. The owner never heard his screams.

02:54 PM

Comments

Posted by: Kristian at September 26, 2002 09:22 PM

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