You stand there, huge, on the periphery of this little world of mine. My heart misses a beat each time I dare to look. See your branches falling like tears. Sense your tree-knowingness, your stillness, your acceptance. The pale grey lichen on your trunk, the yellow on your branches, your ash keys catching in the wind. Acknowledge the awe I feel in your presence. You, who are the other side of the path. A reminder of my mortality, my death tree, my river Styx.
Two buzzards fly over mewing, a sudden fall of sleet bounces off my trousers. I feel warmth inside but the outer cold drives me away