TOMORROW GONEThat night, the moon was full, and the great westerly wind came rushing by. The tree was gone!. The mighty wind swirled around the open space looking for her. The more he searched, the mightier and angrier he became. Never before had the valley seen such raging despair. His fear filled the night sky and it grew larger and larger as he called out for the Yellow Pine tree....."Whereeeee arrrrrt thhh-ooooouu.....! A faint sparkle of light, buried deep within the heart of the stump beckoned to the wind. For there, in the moonlight, glowed the clear sapphire-blue of a crystal spear point. The great horned owl returned and the westerly wind swirled up to meet his old friend of the night. Together, they circled lower and lower, and settled down upon the great stump. The wise owl looked about. Many of the animal spirit friends began to appear out of the dark. There was the deer of the forest, the mountain goat. The wapiti and mountain lion were there too. Many birds were perched on the horns and antlers of the beasts of the forest. On this night, predators were friendly to all. The animals stood, or sat, in a silent circle around the huge stump. Sadness filled their eyes, not a creature stirred. They watched the owl as he began to hoot. Then suddenly he stopped and two large tears filled his eyes. The owl turned without a word and prys the clear-blue crystallite spear point out of the broken heart of the dead tree. Taking the magical arrowhead in his strong beak, he slowly spread shis broad, wide wings. His spirit friend, the Westerly Wind, helps lift him into the starry sky toward the direction of the northern lights. Stars twinkled brightly, and one particular star directly overhead turns brilliant blue that night. Suddenly, the spirit of the Westerly Wind returns, first as a gentle breeze, but begins swirling faster and Faster and FASTER. The winds tracing hands drag along the ground raising dust and moving stones as it begins gathering up the fallen seeds of the dead tree. Into the air they gather with the increasing roar until the entire mountain-side shakes under the fury of this passing. Finally, the friend of Tall-Tree-Standing whirls away the unborn seedlings and pine cones chasing after the ancient owl still flying north against the yellow moon, full but now veiled, haloed but alone, and far behind now, all the trees on the mountain have been blown over by the angry wind. It will be hundreds of years before any return to it. The westerly wind is our special friend. Every winter the great horned owl arrives to visit us, to live for a stretch in a tall spruce near where I live. They both speak to me. The owl hoots softly each evening and sometimes late at night to the moon, and the westerly wind swirls about, bringing in sweet smells and memories of times gone by. I hear the owl forecast of times to come. You must know the sad ending of this true story. For the the remaining years of your life you will never know such a magnificent tree or hear of her again. Only the Great Horned Owl knows where her children are. She is gone, but I remember.We will all, always remember. trails end ~ In Memory of Tall Tree Standing.
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