I’m sitting in the middle of a dying forest.
No one knows why these trees are dying. Some say climate change. Some blame disease. Others say it’s the age of the trees; it’s simply their time.
Their barks are dry, cracking away, sun-bleached grey. There are occasional plunks as pieces — a dead twig or a clump of needles — fall to the water. Plunk…. Plunk. If I weren’t alone, if you were with me here, I’m sure we would whisper. The place feels holy and haunted.
An ibis the colour of the white cloud behind her just settled so carefully on one of the highest perches. The branch creaked under her delicate weight but did not break. Three other matching birds have swooped in, and are pecking at the water below, finding the life hidden beneath its surface.
Carrie Klassen writes about (and sometimes photographs) things she finds beautiful. She ghost-writes for thoughtful people with something important to say at PinkElephantCreative.com, teaches writing for small business at PinkElephantAcademy.com, and she shares her own words at CarrieKlassen.com. Carrie is currently working on a series of personal essays.
Organized under living.