My Friend The Tree

My Friend The Tree

My friend the tree, how I envy thee. I sit here and watch contemplating how you exude such infinite patience with us. We mangle, hurt, spit, and take you for granted. Do you envy us or do you pity us? Ceaselessly, unwaivering you stand. Your true principal is not in your girth, or your height, or your color. Your real majesty lies within your steadfastness. We come at you with an axe and you do nothing. Mother nature might stick up for you if we are not careful. Dropping an appropriate branch on our head when we aren't looking after said axe has been swung. I surely hope you don't envy us. It is us who should envy you. You probably have stood there more than fifty years without want. You are content to be just a tree and watch silently. You offer shelter and shade to those who would seek it without a thought of return. You listen to me whine and cry and amply give me a place to rest. You politely clean the air that I pollute with my stinking sticks of death. You haven't responded to any of my wailings and bludgeonings. And yet, I still consider you to be a True Friend. A True Friend until the end. And even then I hope you vouch for me when my time has come. I hope you have at least one kind word to speak of me. For all I have to give you in return are my ashes. Perhaps they would help construct a seed in your array of offspring so that I too might experience your immortal patience with the world. Again I say, It is I who envy you my friend....the tree. To not want, to not be other then what you be.....my friend.....my friend the tree. Oh, how I envy thee.