What use is a withering tree? |
Withering The tree that shielded us at twilight where you first said "How much I love you" has thin skin that has grayed and faded and deep lines which go inward and through. The weeds grew and long grass took over, and swallowed many yards of clear space, leaving the tree to age, to smother without enough food or sun for grace. The strong supple limbs that held up our daughter's swings so tall, so sure now droop and sag, almost touching ground no longer can it abide, endure. The squirrels no longer run there to save their little nuts and grains. Even they seem to know this ancient tree is suffering too many old pains. It's not stable; it's not steady and blowing storms it can barely weather. It's joined the long line of dead wood, it's bark now light as a feather. I see and understand it all, how father time makes us atone. After all, I'm rather old myself now with frail skin and lines of my own. I don't question God's righteous judgement. I understand His ultimate plan. But Lord I'll never understand why so soon I had to lose my man. Without him, there is not much left to fight despair, no more chances. The winds threaten to sweep me away. He's not here to trim the branches. Without his warmth, I bear no fruit my heart and body have grown old. The chest pains constantly remind me that I, too, shall wither, grow cold. There's nothing sadder that I can see than an old, lonely withered tree. |