This morning dawned peacefully and with the cool gray haze typical in May in my particular part of the world. This peace was short-lived. Thickly accented voices shouted to one another just below my bedroom window…and then I heard the metallic roar of a chainsaw. I watched in impotent horror as these interlopers proceeded to chop down the tree outside my patio. Chop. Down. MY tree. I could feel my heart racing and the hot tears of fury welling up in my eyes. I hated what they were doing and I hated that there was nothing I could do to stop them. In a matter of moments it was over…the scene of the crime wiped clean of any evidence, save one or two listless leaves blowing in the cool morning breeze. The carcass had been drug into a waiting, blood red truck, limbs amputated and hanging limply, the once beautiful form now lifeless. The workmen were proud of themselves. One even had the audacity to smile at me as I backed from my garage and drove slowly past. I ducked my head slightly. I didn’t want him to see my sadness. I was at once angry and shocked at my reaction, and slightly frightened by its intensity.
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Wendy Picard GorhamWendy lives and works in the midst of words everyday--English teacher by profession, and writer by passion! Archives
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