I assume that once hollowed, there comes a moment when the structure can no longer hold. And in a flash, the tree explodes and crumbles, crashes to the ground and shatters into sound. I assume. Because as the proverbial tree falls, I was not there to hear it.

But maybe in this way, I can at least honor its last moment, and pay homage to this cottonwood. I can celebrate it for welcoming a Bald Eagle I watched land on its branches 3 different times. I can appreciate the shade it provided to many picnickers at the table below it. I can’t share my gratitude for prompting my curiosity, and making me wonder about this momentary, massive event.

What did it sound like in that final moment?