The Tree

There’s a dead tree in the woods behind my house. I look at it every day.

Being home so much means I’ve had plenty of time to stare at it, to notice things I never paid attention to before.

It doesn’t have leaves. It doesn’t sway the way the living trees do. It just stands there, tall and still, holding its place in the woods. But even dead, it’s busy.

Squirrels run up and down it like it’s their personal staircase. Birds land on the branches and use them as lookout points. Woodpeckers treat it like a buffet. It’s part of their world, even if it’s no longer growing.

What surprises me most is how much this dead tree still provides. It offers shelter, food, perches, pathways. It holds space in the woods the same way it always has. It’s not useless. It’s not done. It’s just different now.

I think that’s why I keep staring at it.

It reminds me that even when something stops growing in the way it used to, it can still matter. It can still contribute. It can still be part of the landscape.

The dead tree isn’t going anywhere. And somehow, that feels comforting.