Drowning as a Tree

The first drizzle of the rainy season is a refreshing event. The water seeps into the soil and fills the streams. It provides enough change to make my leaves turn up and my tissues bulge. I don't fear the intermittent showers nor the massive storms. My roots are planted deep and I have weathered many. The storms that last for weeks only drum up a slight anxiety. The nearby streams swell tenfold and touch my base but they are nothing compared to my majestic size- at least that is what I tell myself.

This rainy season started much like the last, a slight drizzle, drumming softly against my branches. The crows flocked under my leaves and spoke about their day. The day after was much like the first but the water struck a little more true and the crows spoke in a hushed tone. Not hushed enough that I could not feel the traces of slight panic. I did not wilter and held no fear as I was mighty. I who faced massive storms and won would stand proud.

Over the next week fewer crows came but the rain had only strengthed it's barrage. I wondered if some crows had fell prey to the water. Before I knew it the crows were all gone; the rain was now at what I belived to be its apex. Looking down I realized that the stream was now much higher than it had ever been. Yet I stood fast and did not call for help. My silence was a teastment to strength earned only from standing through many storms. I needed nothing from anyone: not information from the crows or help from the massive trees atop the hills. So I stood, in my valley alone,fearless.

Yet the rain did not stop. What I thought was once the apex now seemed nothing more than a mist. The stream was approaching my lowest branches. That however would not be enough. I was still steadfast with only a hint of unease. It was unease I had felt before and survived so there was nothing to worry about. As a young tree in a deep valley close to large streams I had seen struggles that many had not, I survived those while others fell. This season would not take me down or so I hoped.

Over a month into the rainy season and my leaves began to sag. Some of my smaller branches were utterly destroyed. The streams were now at a third of my height. A new panic creeped its way into my mind. It was hard to breathe. I felt as though I was being pushed from every direction. The landscape I watched over was dark. Yet I remained silent. I thought that it was pathetic for a tree such as myself to call for help because of some rain.

A month and a half in I was all but completely submerged. Only my tallest branches were above the waters. The waters moved with such a force that it took my all not be toppled. My deep roots and majestic body swayed like never before. Only then did I think to call out, but my voice was muffled by the waters and hoarse from the lack of breathe. No massive tree atop a hill could hear me and the birds did not fly close enough to pick up my message and relay it.

At long last I felt my roots as they tore from the ground. With a fuzzy head I thought "It started like the last but, I should have asked the crows what they were so concerned about."