Took a walk into the backwoods today. The call of the birds was happy. Their chorus was a welcome change from winter's biting silence. Felt the crunch of frozen grass in some spots. Still, the sun was finally warm and the stream was flowing clear. Then, I saw them fallen. There were several massive trees wrenched from the earth. I imagined the weight from heavy snow and ice cracking their branches. I wondered if they fell together, as if giving up. The massive half moon wall of tangled dirt and roots jutting into the air, frightened me a little. The sight of ripped out roots was violent. The cavernous icy hole left behind seeming ready to swallow an unsuspecting soul into hell. I was drawn to the tree corpse. My eyes traveled the long trunk up to its glorious branches, it appeared as if god herself had fainted with her arms above her head. I felt small and vulnerable. I looked up to see if another might collapse onto me. I was respectful and sad for one hundred years lost. I walked on, slowing down. As I got closer to the tree's halo branches, my perspective shifted. I saw how the soft earth cradled her. The truth of impermanence laid out bare. The fallen tree was not dead, it had taken a new form there on the forest floor where it would live on for another ten thousand years, as it gave itself back to the earth in beautiful decay.