A TREE STORY (Seasons Change) He was a young tree. His boughs were quivered with freshness and life. His bark the color of the new moon, and his eyes resembling the sky. The robin and the squirrel were proud to dwell in his limbs, so sturdy. He sang with the spring breeze and glowed with the blossoms. Life was lovely. How he grew! Deeper flourished his leaves, and thicker was his base. His voice became louder and he harmonized with the steaming wind. He danced with the mid-summer’s rain, whispered to the moon when it appeared. The mockingbird and the fireflies stalked his branches merrily, glad to be alive. He was mirthful and glad and the world spun around him. Life was Grand!! He was taller than tall. Oh how wonderful to look over the heads of his brothers and sisters! He could feel a cooler gale flip his leaves as he watched the dawn rise with a crisp twang. The wind was spicy with fruit and ripe harvest, and the birds sang lustily together. He sensed a strange twitch for an instant, surging through his perfectly green leaves. He thought nothing of it for the time being; The moment was enthralling! What was happening? The boughs of his family were turning a strange color! Surely they weren’t sick…he was feeling a tad off at the moment. And he saw it! He was no longer grand and beautiful but gold and brown perfectly horrible colors for a handsome tree such as himself! And woe! The song birds and squirrels all went away and new ones came. This couldn’t be! The days soared on a bitter wind, and most of his ugly leaves tumbled. Hoary black crows perched on his limbs like leaches, spoiling his white bark. He shivered and swayed as frost fell silently, his scanty, withered leaves grating together. Bare limbs scraped the sky like grasping, bony fingers, dead and grey. His sobs and moans lingered in the ears of all, crying for the old days. Dead. He was dead. His head nodded drearily. The sap no longer swam through his veins; all was lost. His heavenly blue eyes were closed and he stood stiff in the rock hard turf. Snow from the frothy firmament blasted and blistered him, and not even the rooks dared to croak. A darkness lay upon him. Time passes! What endless, ageless time and time and time! Everlasting, eternal, extending to the very ends of the earth. Bleak and black, hours and minutes and seconds and weeks and months and centuries. All a desperate ebb and fall, rise and sink. Closer, however, growing ever and ever closer. Hurry on, old decades. It then happened! Oh glory! What a sudden burst he experienced! He could feel again! His limbs, though heavy with snow were shaking with excitement. Could it be that he was not to die? Had he really returned to his beloved world? The sun shone pale upon him and he soaked in its rays. If only he had his friends to rejoice with him! He was ecstatic! Wonders of wonders! Everything was truly coming back! A small robin lit upon him, singing an old song he hadn’t heard for the longest time. Around his knobby toes, crocuses and jonquils sprouted through the powder. A twist of warmth filtered through and he laughed like he once did before. Winter had said its final adieu and he was still there! He had not been forgotten! Life was coming! Spring took its course. There were young trees all around him he’d never seen before. All were as he once was, joyful and glad to be alive. Needless to say, he wasn’t as young as they, or as fresh, or as simple, or as new, but he was happy. For where youth had gone, wisdom took its place! He still sang as gleefully but his voice was richer, and he still danced gracefully, but his step was hardier. Life dutifully gave and took and he couldn’t have been more pleased Blessed is life! .