Our neighbours behind have a tree. It's a large poplar, that looks like a big duster or tickling stick. A strange and unusual tree on a hill populated mostly by ancient oaks and new spruces.
At night the tree sways in the wind, and its leaves rustle and its thin branches brush against each other like people walking down a crowded street. It reflects the light from the nearby street light - causing it to glow an eery orange colour pointing up into the sky towards the stars.
I used to watch this tree before falling to sleep, and it would give me peace. I say "used to", because on Monday night I went to bed and it was gone.
A large stump remained. Solid, unmoving. And I felt an empty hole where that tree once was.