the open space

it's sad
to see the large tree gone
down
in the deluge
of rain,
the trunk too old
to hold so much
water.
the winds helped.
how beautiful it was
as the seasons changed.
if it groaned as it fell,
you wouldn't know.
the workers take it apart
in small pieces,
grinding the great
oak down.
straddling it's long limbs
with chainsaws.
you think that you will
never get used to anyone
or thing passing,
but in time,
you do. in time you
accept the open
space that is before you
and move on.