The ancient oak tree
starts to bend.

He knows his time
is coming to a close.

He will not grieve,
for he knows tomorrow
his burden will be lifted.

As he stoops lower and lower,
he  relives his memories--

the first time
he lost his acorns,
and his leaves.

The old couple
who used to live by him,
Drinking there evening
coffee beneath him.

The little boy
who loved him,
climbing his branches,
until he grew up.

The squirrel who
scampered up
and down his trunk,
yesterday afternoon.

The little girl
who saw him strain,
and hugged him,
trying to fit him
in her arms.

And as the sun melts
into the horizon,
he hears the faint
sigh of the wind
as she whispers to him,
“Goodbye.”