The Eagle Tree

by Ned Hayes

When I fell, every future move exploded apart in my mind, a deck of cards thrown in the air.

Five hundred years ago, if someone had removed all bears, none of the old-growth trees we have now would have grown.

I am a tree in the forest, moving very slowly, only barely touched by the wind. Everyone else just moves past me, and I watch them go, because I cannot be moved from who I am, and what I am, and what I know. It makes me special, unique. My knowledge is a secret that only I possess.

We are actually connected to one another underground, and must rely on one another for sustenance, and for the ability to continue to thrive in this world.

It would be easy to blame the insects. But the truth is that all of this insect activity is coming from warming temperatures and increased stress—all of which can be directly attributed to human activity.

There is an ocean of light around us. We are surrounded by it. We swim in it. We move through it every day. But I am the only one who seems to have my eyes open. I am the only one who can see it. Sometimes, this is very lonely.

for a moment I looked at Ilsa’s face, and in that moment, I could understand why some people like to look at each other’s faces. There is something in a person’s eyes that you cannot see anywhere else in the world. Something haunting and unsettling.

starlight bleeds faintly down into the forest from between rushing gray clouds.

I want to spread my arms and allow the sound that is building in my chest to come out of my mouth in one unending scream of joy.

I decided in that moment that I did not want to fade away like the water droplets.