Dear God, what a tree this was. Big, burly branches. Growing wildly with brothers and sisters and offspring across the country.
Many birds to thank in that regard. Messengers of this seed. Delivering and planting through their digestive track.
This particular tree though, now growing older. A couple limbs broken from old scars. Strong winds. More than a few storms.
But this dry fall and winter have left this beauty pretty bare. No nourishment. Widdling down to its core. A few fires. Can’t do much about that. Some quakes and general rustling.
An even bigger storm is approaching. All is quiet. Much too quiet. No sudden movements, the tree aches and must learn to breathe in this new year.
Hold your breath, the shedding of the oak takes no comfort in a thick bark.
Huge broken branch landed by the trunk. And many dead branches to follow.
Journalistic Writing