January 25th

First I dressed warmly.
With multiple layers on my torso
and a bundle of hats upon my head.
with water proof boots me and my accomplice
dragged our feet through the snow to the forest.
once arriving there we picked a victim.
I do not remember if it was a maple
or if it was a birch, or an oak perhaps.
But I do remember the lively color of it's insides
and the wonderful taste of its blood.
It took many approaches before we got it right.
Before we fell the tree successfully.
You may ask why we'd commit such an act.
I'll have you know it wasn't in a lumberjack sort of manner.
But more like a murder.
I didn't just chop it down.
I first dismantled the once strong, towering autotroph
of its limbs, one by one.
Then slowly and painstakingly
with a hatchet I chopped.
We must have been there for hours.
Taking turns chopping.
But once it was finally broken
and the last sign of life was gone.
With a feeling of victory we cremated the victim.
And walked home to the warm dinner and laughing children awaiting us.