Old Pecan Tree

the old house is making strange noises. the old tree in the pecan field is dead. she's long been stripped bare of all her limbs. her lean arches from high above the houses. though her stretch has withered frail. there hasn't been enough rain. only but the old telephone wire tied to the edge of the old house is holding her from falling. breaking and crashing in half. the old wind forces her to rely on the old telephone wire completely. if she goes there may be a great fire. just above the old telephone wire is the new power line currently buzzing. teeming electricities. if she goes she'll snap that new power line like an old rubber band. but the old pecan tree in the pecan field balances on a tight wire. it groans in strain and weakness unable to be nothing more than helpless. no one wants to see her go, nor endure the inevitable anymore. the old pecan could not help her crooked stand or her resilient rings. the old tree had been there and seen many things. her hips once bore fruit. her limbs once had branches that leaves grew from. green leaves that loved the wind and rain and sun.