Natures Vulnerability

Point of view from the last tree standing in the forest

         Not very long ago I was surrounded by many of my kind, but now I stand desolate. I am the last for miles around and I fear for my own existence. I am vulnerable to the wind that lashes at me, the withering heat, and the rain is a phantom. I stand bare this frigid morn', looking for some sign of other life. I hear no blue birds sing their good mornings. No scurrying of small forest animals looking for their breakfast. I see no white tails weaving in and out, dashing here and there. The only positive thing - the wolves and bears no longer leave their markings. Still, if I had a choice, I'd gladly take my chances with the barbaric creatures over loneliness.

         Way up here I can see very far, yet there is nothing to look out at. A vast emptiness of space. Clouds swirl about like gauzy curtains, taking on forms that remind me of all things I miss. Where are all the things nature used to behold here? I know what happened. Humans brought their man made destructive devices to mow down the land, then set fire to the stumps that refused to budge from the earth, leaving the ground ashen. The air that once was refreshing, now stings and burns as I breath it in. What wasn't wiped out by the machines and fire, ran in fear. I could hear their ear piercing screeches and moans as they tried to escape. I hope they found a safe haven, a new place to call home.

         I watch the sky turn from a soft blue to a brilliant purple. Blackness stretches over, blinding me from the emptiness. Finally I can relax as the day comes to its end. In the darkness I find peace, for no man travels through here. I miss the call of the owls and the yellow eyes of the nocturnal though, reminders that there was still life after the sun set. I rest my weary, wind beaten limbs, drink in the last drops of the afternoon rain and pray tomorrow never comes.


Word count: 353