Requiem for an Elm Tree

“It’s a Siberian Elm,” said the Arborist we had hired to evaluate and trim the trees on our property, “You can’t kill ‘em.” This was good news as we are both unrepentant tree huggers. We have several trees on our property – maples and oaks in the back, ornamental trees in the front. We love them all, but the elm was the biggest and most magnificent. Standing at the edge of our back deck, we appreciated the shade it gave every summer. The rocking chair on the screened-in side porch faced the tree, which became my prayer partner on balmy mornings.

          It was an infestation of carpenter ants that finally did our old friend in. As winter was ending, we again summoned the Arborist, thinking we would only need to have the tree trimmed. “You have a pretty bad split there,” he said, pointing to the trunk, shaking his head sadly.

          The tree had become dangerous, and we had no choice. Signing the estimate for the work felt like signing an execution warrant. We cried as we said prayers of thanksgiving and bid our friend farewell.

          Now our beloved elm no longer hovers high above our house. It always had such a big presence; it’s been hard to get used to it not being there. I will miss having it as my prayer partner when I am able to sit out on the side deck to say Morning Prayer. We wonder if the resident owls will still hoot at us on sleepless summer nights.

          Life goes on. We have ordered an oak tree which should be planted in a month or so. To welcome our new resident, we are planning a tree blessing party.

          While the oak will not be like our elm, it will grow into the creature God intended it to be. We will make new memories which will nestle in our hearts alongside the old. The sacred circle of life will go on.

I don’t write a lot of poetry, but it seemed appropriate to write a poem to honor the life of a faithful old tree.      

Farewell, old friend, dear sister, my partner in prayer on soft summer mornings when the whispering of your branches joined my voice to form a holy community.

I will miss the shade you so compassionately provided on steamy afternoons.

My world will be poorer without your looming presence – so familiar these

many years.

The squirrels who cavorted up and down your noble trunk, the birds who nested in your branches where in time fledglings launched their maiden flights. Where will they go now?

Where will the two resident owls perch as they hoot together and comfort me on sleepless nights? They will all miss you, even though in time they will surely move on to other trees.

I will always remember you, God’s creature, blessed yet mortal, as we all are. The love you gave will live on in the hearts of those who knew you, those who will talk fondly of you in years to come.

Farewell, old friend, may you rest in peace.