Three Lives of Trees

Once I was the oak upon the hill, strong and resolute. As the winds came, I sheltered the sheep beneath my boughs, and with a low grumble stood still against the storm.

And a leaf fell.
And a twig snapped.
And a branch fell.
And my trunk cracked and I tumbled.

And so I thought, I must not be an oak – I pretended to be a palm. I learned to bend, to twist, to turn. In light winds the sheep still sheltered, but in the storms I yelled, “run you fools run!” Alone before the tempest I would dance, swing wildly, toss my body, my mind, my soul against the ground and air, and yell “I can withstand! I can withstand!”

And a fruit fell.
And a frond snapped.
And a branch fell.
And my trunk cracked and I tumbled.

And now? From an acorn I grow anew, but I grow amongst the palms, the sycamores and the ashes. The willows weep around me. The holly bushes snare lovers ‘neath their thorns. Our roots mix and our seeds mingle as the sheep graze beneath the canopy. So when the storms come my oakish torso will take my share as we raise our leaves to the heavens.

And the fruit shall grow.
And the leaves shall wave.
And the branches will soar
As our trunks worship the forest for our trees.

Image result for thick oak forest

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