My Tree
We have a connection my tree and I.
She was there, my oak, long before Michigan was on the map.
She was there when the first settlers came
She stood tall as my house was being built
and she stands there still
My tree is my connection
To heaven
To God
When I don’t know the words
She does.
Coming home from where ever I have been
However long I’ve been gone, a day, a week?
It doesn’t matter.
As I turn the corner, I breathe out a sigh of relief
I thank God
There stands my tree, guarding my house and all that are in it.
She has kept us all safe for many years
And she does still
But if I cut down the tree
what would keep the sun from beating down on my roof.
Where would the squirrels play?
And the downy wood pecker get its next meal?
What about the crows, where would they sit as they watch my family live our lives?
I have been told by many that the tree should go.
Why?
Oh it will fall on your house
It might get struck by lightning.
It’s full of carpenter ants
It makes a huge mess every fall
I never thought a tree could be my friend
