Silver Lining

We lost 2 oak trees this week, or the best part of them, anyway.

Wednesday, 3 men came with a bucket truck and cut down the top two thirds of a couple of trees that were too close to the house.

One of them, half of a double trunked tree, had lifted its leafy fingers to the sky for years,
and now what's left of it seems sad and bare.

Texture by Kim Klassen

Don says a tree is almost never cut down without revealing something else,

and around here, that's usually more trees.

I appreciated the wisdom of this theoretically, but every time I glanced at the tree,
I could only see what wasn't there.

In the evening, Don went to bed before me.

I sat in a quiet house writing a letter, Barley curled up sleeping on the pad at my feet.

Christmas lights still twinkled from the little tree on the dining room table,
and out of the window to the southwest,
the crescent moon made a smileyface over the lake.

The letter finished, Barley and I padded off to the bedroom. 

From out of the window to the east, low in the dark sky, Orion winked at me, and I paused mid-step.  

I had never seen Orion from that window before. Then I remembered the tree. 

There was something hiding behind it after all.

I drifted off into a dream of summer with new leaves,

and branches growing strong and reaching their fingers to the clouds.

In the meantime, I'll be appreciating my new view of Orion in the night sky.