I see a sturdy oak tree, standing all alone.
I study its branches, I study its bark, I study its bronzy leaves.

I see a log cabin, built to keep its inhabitants safe during a winter storm.
I look through the window, at a young boy opening a gift, his eyes widen as a small wooden boat emerges from the wrapped paper.

I see a girl dancing, her brow furrows, as she clicks her wooden shoes on the smooth wooden floor.
She prances and twirls as a wise old man plucks a giddy tune on a fine wooden fiddle.

I see the hull of a ship, cutting into the crashing waves, tossing and turning in the wind.
Its sails are like paper, crippled and frayed by the storm.
A loud crack is heard as the mast breaks and plunges into the folds of the sea.
One nervous sailor grabs a thin pencil and scrawls out a letter to his bride, sharing his last aspirations as the waves pour in.

I see folks weeping, they wipe their eyes as they pass by an empty casket.
A young woman lingers for a moment, she tenderly places a small wooden cross on top of its sealed lid.

Then, after having seen all of this,
I look back up at the tree and force a sad smile onto my face.