Years Ago.

Years ago I watched the trees around grow and get old.

I felt the warmth of the sun on my bark.

I watched the small tree frog find it’s home.

My roots ran deep and I had not a care in the world.

Years ago I was Happy.
Years ago I sat still and scared as my friends were cleared away.

I saw them pushed across the dirt.

I saw the stumps, the only things left from what had once been a forest.

I watched the humans build their home.

The small hands embraced me.

The tiny boy swung his big plastic bat.

Years ago things changed.
Months ago, the boy was older.

Months ago, he still played around me, running around the yard in his too big jersey with the new metal bat.
Months ago I heard him laugh.

The baseballs rolled along the grass beside me.

The boy leaned against me, his big books in his hands.

It was just me and the boy.

And then, Months ago, the beetle arrived.
Weeks ago my branches turned grey.

My roots stopped bringing me the food I needed.

But the Beetle stayed.

Weeks ago my leaves blew away, dried up and cracking.

Weeks ago I felt empty.
Days ago the boy leaned against me one last time.
His baseball next to him, the books on his lap.

However,

Days ago I saw his tears.

Because days before one of my branches had fallen off.

The boy knew then what I did not.

That later the man and the saw would come.

And so days later, I thought back to the years before the beetle.

The years where it was just me and my forest.

The months were I was alone.

Then the days of watching the boy and his baseball.

Watching the boy read his book.

Watching the boy grow up.

And then the Beetle.

The man and the saw.

And then it was nothing at all,

But another stump.



Every year ash trees are dying from the Emerald Ash Borer [the “beetle”]. A beetle that spreads through wood. Help prevent this by not transporting fire wood. Do your part to save our tree.

By Ada Shookenhuff