I had never heard a tree crack into pieces until today.
I don't mean the sound of an axe wielded by man chopping firewood.
I don't mean the crackle of a log engulfed in intentional flames.
I mean the sound of a tree splitting under the weight of ice,
Under the hand of Mother Nature herself,
Deciding to change all at once,
To prune,
To get rid of bulk,
Dead weight,
Make room for new growth.
It's a peeling back at first,
The way it sounds tearing into a thick orange peel,
But louder,
And then a little like Velcro,
And then a falling,
The kind you feel in your belly on the back roads as a passenger where the hills never seem to stop,
A rushing of her leaves,
A splintering of ice,
A shattering to pieces.
Even Mother Nature falls apart once in a while,
And she always gets back up.
You can get back up too.