the old torqued twisted tree  itd take two men to embrace her trunk  a trunk cowed by Nature that fashioned it nearly flat its first five seven feet before she abruptly reared and went up rightangle into the sky to mingle with her kind and her neighbours crowns which grew furthur up the creek bank  Cautiously he thought     

the old tree stood under the winter rain in the swollen surging creek  and while her uppermost roots were swept naked of soil fallen leaves debris and careless litter they mirrored her stark overhead branches 

she was unashamed and unembarrassed

her hard taproot went deeper than the sniveling upstart water table 

she was unshakeable  

she had withstood more than a hundred years of weather and whatever the planet threw at her

growing gamely behind her directly east was a sapling(and if one had any kind of imagination they might see he as a hardy devotee)  he stood in the broad protective wake of his master

the younger had its beginning in recent decades as water became scarce  we suffered more droughts  but for his Providence -- if you would – he grew ramrod straight and tall nearly as tall as she

he believed she was a she – his evidence after all was the like-sapling 

when the creek water was rampant and might have uprooted the younger her queer low trunk deflected the punishing water round him

walking the dry creekbed he recognised the pair many years ago 

he could also admire them from the overlook of a concrete bridge built in ‘21

the gnarled tree was hard to miss

she looked like a boats cutwater in the Spring if it rained

the timid second made him laugh  it was a nervous skinny tree that kept awkwardly to her shadow while the sun set

today though  he was very grateful for the pair

  

                          the homeless mans dead body pinwheeled in the deepcut channel in its aerated turbulence and slosh rolling over and over and when face up smiling a nearly imperceptible smile  the knife wound at his throat

         and when the creek went right and the mans cat-fed weight and inertia forced him left her weathered bow tossed him back into the channel and the sapling slapped away his outreached arms as if saying Keep to your way

No berth here 

the dead man spun around and tumbled around the treed bend

that was the last he saw of the homeless man who he sent on his way  and since he didnt read the local paper or watch television it was also the last he heard of him

though the true last he heard of him was his sharp surprised bark and the slight redbubbled gurgle

he had fawned and always been fond of that unseemly pair in the creekbed

but nevermore than on that rainy day

   

1616,  Monday,  16  1. 17

0901,  Super Bowl Sunday,  5  2. 17

1445 days remain or less