A crash split the night as a large figure descended from the darkness and deposited itself with great drama among the leaves and the shrubbery below. It had stood tall and strong for many years towering above the younger weaker saplings, its long winding branch system adorned with a multitude of shiny green leaves. As the dust settled it was as if all time had been suspended. The inhabitants in the immediate vicinity seemed frozen, incapable of movement.
The old tree had stood for many years. Its imposing presence had provided a panoramic view of the surrounding district and far beyond. Its leaves had provided shelter and protection for all creatures who sought sanctuary from the elements. Many a visitor had come and gone briefly stopping by on great quests from continentto continent.
It had been a landmark for passersby and the centrepiece of many an oil painting, which hung from the highest to the humblest of abodes. Its strong limbs had carried a variety of nesting birds over an expanse of time. The giant in its latter years had made strange noises as if complaining of its plight, a far cry from days of youth, of life, of days that never seemed to end.
As the light of the day emerged in the east, the space where the giant had once stood, lay empty. Life was returning and the shuffling of tiny feet and sounds of tentative birdsong could be heard. A squirrel hopped onto the fallen tree and looked furtively left and right. Almost unnoticed, a little sapling peeped out above the surface near the roots of the old tree. Nothing would be as it had been before but the future held the prospect that in time there might be something special to provide its own unique inspiration.
David Clinton ©