Sated — A Poem

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“Endure” — C.Birde, 12/17

 

Dark

chews,

gnaws,

swallows day,

minute by hour,

bit by

bit by

bite,

and, in so doing,

clears the path

for Winter,

marks a

return

to light.

 

— C.Birde, 12/17

 

Treebeard, in Memoriam — Images

Created with Nokia Smart Cam
“Treebeard, 2016” — C.Birde, 2/17

It is with a heavy heart that I bear news of Treebeard’s passing. He was felled Wednesday, February 22, 2017. Treebeard was lifelong resident of Greenwood Cemetery, Boonton, and quite possibly, he had made his home there prior to the Cemetery’s establishment in 1876. We became acquainted in his twilight years, twenty-six years ago, and I knew him to be a patient, generous, and forgiving soul. He had seen much in his nearly two centuries. After the loss of a major limb, many years before our first meeting, he sheltered countless families of squirrel’s and birds and insects, without complaint. Concurrent with this limb’s loss, he accepted a vining growth which leant him his moniker. He rooted and grew, suffered and succored. His was a fine example to follow. Though his stump remains to mark his place, I will miss his presence — the green shade of his crown, the length and all-encompassing reach of his shadow; I will miss the song of wind through his leaves, the creak and groan of his massive branches. Rest well, Treabeard. In lieu of flowers, please plant a tree, or nurture and appreciate those you share your life with, whether daily or in passing.

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“Treebeard’s Stump” — C.Birde, 2/17

Treebeard’s stump is an impressive 60+ inches across.

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“Treebeard’s Midsection” — C.Birde, 2/17

Treebeard’s midsection, measuring over 140 inches in circumference.

 

 

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“Treebeard’s Cavity” — C.Birde, 2/17

The massive cavity that, doubtless, lead to his undoing.

 

 

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“Treebeard’s Remains” — C.Birde, 2/17

The trunk of Treebeard lays stacked in Greenwood Cemetery’s center.

 

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“Treebeard 2016” — C.Birde

 

 

 

Well Rooted — An Image

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“Well Rooted” — C.Birde, 4/16

This old beech tree has snaked roots deep into the earth over such a long period of time, it seems to anchor its bit of forest in place. Around it, scores of robins dip their heads to dart and scurry through the leaf litter, while, in contrast, the tree itself moves too slowly for any eye to see — ever upward, ever inward.