RIP, My Tiny Friend

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All stories end in death, and he is no true storyteller who would keep that from you. ~Ernest Hemingway, American journalist, novelist, and short story writer

You

Were so

Tiny that

I didn’t think

You’d ever get big.

Yet a Pandemic tree

Had nothing to do but grow.

And over these past five years you

Did exactly that! Each year saw you

Get taller and fuller and healthier.

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While I hated to do it, I had to

Have you cut down so others could live.

Sacrifice is never easy

And I thank you, Tiny Tree,

For your superb service.

I’ll miss you, you know,

But you’ll live on

In photos

And my

Heart

Note: Poetry form is Double Etheree.

22 thoughts on “RIP, My Tiny Friend”

    • We lose a lot of limbs and entire trees here to storms, so it’s especially sad to part with one by choice. I know you understand this.

      • Yes, I have to leave the house when we’re cutting down trees, even dead ones. We have 4 or 5 more dead from this winter that we need taken out and probably several more that are actively dying. So sad.

    • You’re exactly right, Eliza. It was a rotten location, placed there by birds or wind. I probably should’ve pulled it up when it was little, but part of me was curious if I could get it to grow. I found out I could!

    • He was so cute when he was tiny, Barbara. But as he got taller and fuller, he blocked out my windows … almost to the second story!

  4. Yes, Debbie, I remember back in 2020 when you first posted about Tiny Tree and how BIG it grew. Your slideshow brought back so many memories.

    Oh well, like you said, you had to cut it down so others could live. That’s nature. You gave Tiny Tree a great life whilst on this earth.

    Great slideshow! Have a super Sunday, my friend! X

    • Thanks for understanding, Ron. I know you love trees as much as I do, so you can empathize with how hard a decision it was to send Tiny Tree to the great beyond.

      Besides blocking my windows, he was shading my black-eyed Susans. And, while I never noticed birds nesting in his branches, I did almost jump out of my skin when I was standing nearby and a bird suddenly swooped out from him, ha! XX

    • Thanks, Kelly. Me, too! I remember tying that red ribbon around him early on … and decorating him for one Christmas. Junipers are pretty stickly, though, so I couldn’t get too close to him without being pricked. None of that seemed to bother Monk, oddly enough.

    • I know. Sigh. Too big and in the wrong place. At least I can comfort myself in the knowledge that I didn’t plant him there … and he did have a good life!

  9. Think of it this way. You gave that wonderful tree a chance at a life it never would have experienced had a squirrel eaten the seed that started it all, or some other critter eaten its roots before they were established. Now, you know that you can nurture a tree along to maturity — maybe that’s why it was sent to you in the first place!

    • A most practical — and comforting — response, Linda. Thank you! If it had been planted in another spot, I probably would’ve been tempted to leave it and see just how much bigger it would get!

  10. Such a sad and heartfelt poem! But I agree with Linda, you gave the tree a chance and it lived longer than it would have otherwise. Death really is the end of every single living thing, and I just can’t believe that it is necessarily a bad thing….. Just sad for those left behind!

    • Thanks for saying that! I refuse to allow my thoughts to linger on Tiny’s demise. He had a good life — despite his horrid location! And with him gone, everything else is starting to look perkier!

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