There was no contest
\nbetween the tree and the wind.
\nLike a boxer it wove and lunged,
\nstruck back with hooks
\nand blows, tangling in a green fury
\nwith the explosions of the storm,
\nignoring the embolism
\nbuilding in its roots,
\nthe breaking apart of its soul,
\nthe web of its embrace to the earth.
\nMinute by minute, ruined.
\nThe inequity of a vast violence
\nagainst a portrait of time,
\ndrawn in the tree\u2019s book of seasons,
\nfighting to the death its destruction.<\/p>\n
It was no contest.
\nThe soil soggy by rain
\ncould no longer support the
\ntall spruce.
\nA Colosseum of green
\nthat had tinted the air around it
\nwith jade,
\nthe aroma of a jewel box,
\nthe edge of mysterious eyes
\nflashing in the shade.<\/p>\n
It was no contest,
\nnow and yesterday.
\nYesterday, sun and peace.
\nThousands of days
\nlived without cataclysm.
\nLife ineffable, with the aura
\nof inviolable goodness,
\nthat which goes on, goes on.
\nThat which lives,
\nhas a reason to live.
\nNow we live with the treason
\nof a truth.
\nDeath has a place of its own.
\nWe had a thousand days and
\nthe promise of more in our tree.
\nBut death died itself,
\nin an instant,
\na pyrrhic victory.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There was no contest between the tree and the wind. Like a boxer it wove and lunged, struck back with hooks and blows, tangling in…<\/p>\n