the loss of an oak

 a hole in the canopy, and in my heart

a large red oak has prospered on the hill of our land,

shielding the house, and the solar panels,

I thought about removing it a decade ago,

but the solar gain seemed not worth the communal loss,

then a fungus worked its way into the first 10 feet of its base,

and a few months ago orange mushrooms

festooned from its infection,

and we feared a fall so close to the house,

with no rancor, but with a lot of efficiency,

⅔ of its branches were removed,

much left to reduce into firewood,

much leaf and branch reduced to pieces,

sprayed into a truck to await becoming humus, I hope,

I honor this great red oak,

I mourn its loss to the acre of our home,

like the bear that broke into the mountain cabin,

for the safety of home it had to be removed,

tomorrow the rest should come down

and be transmuted into firewood and pulp,

the invading fungus no longer active,

I wonder if the life in the roots will find a way forward,

or just be a slow forgetting, a passing away,

I want to honor a great tree

and remember it fondly 

within the limits of my short-lived species.

by Henry H. Walker

November  15, ‘24