The first time we entered the forest a
lifetime ago it stood massive, a sentry
and a monarch of pines impressive in its
girth and solemn presence for none others
evoked that sense of awe at its timeless
presence such that one wondered what
it had been witness to in the long since past.
In every season it stood there clamped
to the forest floor, impassive and stalwart.
Raging storms hurled through the forest
prostrating lesser trees on their way to challenge
the old pine. There were microburst tornadoes
and derechos, fierce winter ice storms and
springtime tempests all too tame to ruffle
the pine's stout limbs. In time the tree bent to
the winds and began its slant like an old man's
bent back until its lean toward the forest floor
warned of impending disaster. The tree that had
hosted bees, owls, squirrels nesting in its
capacious interior met one too many of
nature's challenges and last night surrendered.
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