I am a rotting tree.
No one wants to sit beneath me.
I have nothing to offer,
No fruit to bear.
All I have are these last few leaves.
Will you take these leaves, dear Stranger?
You are the only creature I have seen in days,
And I cannot wait any longer.
My roots are aching and my trunk feels brittle.
Another gust of wind,
And I will fall to the ground with a silent thud.
At least you are here to hear me, Stranger.
So, will you do me this favor?
Cut me down after I go,
Craft my body into something of wonder,
a haven, a home.
Keep these few leaves,
bury them within me,
then allow the wind to carry me away.
You, dear stranger, claim to have nothing.
Cut me down.
Allow me to give you everything.

r.b