i used to love that poem
until you heard it
and got mad at me for writing it
and it makes me angry
because your just now realizing
that this is how I've perceived you my whole life
as a man who's never had anything stable
because you ******* with women
and abandoned home at sixteen
now that you have something stable
you're terrified of losing it
but yet you get angry
when the truth is told to you
that your grasping for stability
like sand running through your fingertips
you hate that poem for it holds only truth
and that's why i love it so much
cuz' I've learned from that poem
I've learned that you can't accept the truth

When you were alive,
You told me to be brave,
But now I feel like a lost little girl
Trying to find you in a supermarket
Strangers keep asking me if I am ok
People tell me it will be alright
But all I want is you

the angel on my shoulder
picked up smoking,
the devil on the other
took up yoga—

they don't know
how much they have
in common.

Season after season.
I've gazed upon you
through my window.

I've seen the snow hang low
upon your branches.
With white upon red berries.
I've watched the snow melt away
to reveal new buds,
opening,
ever so slowly,
to leaves so green.
In early Spring.

I've watched all the creatures
hop, climb, and fly among
your branches.
I've watched the birds taste
your blood-red berries.
I've seen songbirds...
Nuthatches,
finches, and chickadees.
Come to the feeders.
That hang from you.
I've seen the squirrels steal
seeds from the birds.
As their little paws unlatch
a little hook.
I've heard the birds sing among your
branches.
So sweetly.
I remember when the chickadees
built their nest in you,
and then watched their young fledge.
I remember the year the woodpecker
came knocking at your trunk's door.
As he drilled his beak into you.
And made a hole.
After that.
You were never the same anymore...

I watched your life slowly end.
Another year.
Another season.
More dead branches to be severed.
Fewer buds.
Fewer leaves.
As your story slowly drew to a close.

Yesterday,
they chopped down what was left of you.
But I will always remember you.
And I thank the Lord for the joy
of beholding your beauty.
Of watching your story.
You have blessed so many creatures.
Including me.
Farewell,
Beautiful Mountain Ash tree.