This is the place I lost all
hope. This stump was once
well, that’s obvious.
Its’ lot was empty except
for the leaves that dove into
a pool of green
at its’ feet. Each day I whisked by
my tree framed in the bus
window the only life
on Chicago Ave. I looked forward
to this glimpse, clung to it
like a free climber
defying gravity. They cut it
down without ceremony
I flat lined, sick with parking
lots. I wept on the way
to work humiliated, engulfed
by the dead who never saw
my tree, never mourned.
I rationalized they must need
to build, passage or
progress, small consolation.
But none came, it was
senseless, a violation.
Faith buckled and pocked
a city street,unfunded.
I got out
of the bus in May.
I walked to the grave.
The circumference,
bones of a galaxy picked clean
reduced to one dimension.
The years, the rings
sang like the lip
of a wineglass under my hand
caught on one sprout
regeneration. It was the whole
of the world, a forest, a vision
under one leaf
I built a life.
Chicago Il. April rd 2013 Day 3 Napowrimo
© 2013 Abby Smith, Writer
VSVEVG (very simple very easy very good) 
Wow, I’ve been there too. They’ve been cutting down trees in Oak Park day after day, so many of them were my friends. I know…
I posted Amate as a response to your comment Natalie. You can see my husband in the crotch of the tree, and my tiny house behind, it took awhile to find a new tree to bond with but it was worth the wait. thank you for visiting, paz Abby
I hate the sound of chainsaws.
yea, unfortunately it is one I hear a lot in Mexico
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Hey Abby…How dare you besmirch my profession! 🙂 I consider myelf a silviculturist/forester. Silviculture is the science of tree growth. Guys with chain saws are just guys with chain saws, and are NOT foresters. Love ya!
interesting interpretation, I was thinking of myself as the silviculturist, though I suppose that’s a slight as well 🙂 xoxox a