The Seasoned Tree.

This is the story of the Tree who barely knew what it has grown to be until it started to live.

There it was sitting beside a pond; sad, daunting and high on its youth.

One day, a flock of birds flew on its branches and pecked on a garnish of fruits hanging on every twig. Enthralled by its sweetness, the birds gorge on the ecstatic buffet up to the last seed. The Tree smiled as it was graced with guests but with bad luck, one by one they all fell right into the water, so full those poor birds can’t flap their wings and soon drowned, dead under the pond’s brackish bed.

Then came a colony of ants and crawled on its trunk, bit there, cling here, hole there and here. A few days passed and a big storm came... not a drop filled the hole the ants bore into. The colony lived feasting on the sap rich within the Trees trunk and this made the Tree happy for it was having guest. Still with the most unfortunate event, the colony perished quick, poisoned for they had too much.

The Tree grew cold and bowed down from despair, its leaves hanging like it was praying for what reason should it have been created to only bring harm to many.

Days passed…

The Tree sat strong beside the pond shading a tiny slope. All was quiet when giggles from behind it crossed the hilltop from where it stands. It was a hot summer. Children were playing under it, shading them from the streaks of the longing sun. It smiled after long years from its sorrow, happy to have guests once more.

Autumn came, under that same Tree two lovers left their promises carved on its trunks and run away with hands held tight.

Winter was never left out, as an old man came by its frozen branches, cut them off and shed fire with its embrace.

Lo, came spring, the pond clearer, long gone were its forlorn scene and sad hue. Blossoms covered the treetop like it was a crown, a bed of roses just sitting by its roots like some fashioned slippers and on the now bent branches grew beautiful heart-shaped leaves, waving and dancing as the cool breeze tickled it.

A soft chuckle came from behind the Tree as a child ran off followed by a couple. Then and there the Tree knew what it was for. For years the Tree stood ground. Age however come soon no matter how time made it strong, it slowly crippled and broken down to no lesser than its trunk. Leaving it lying there, blank and withering.

On that summer of many past moons budded a sprout of green and brown, it was soaring quickly, yet with peculiarity was it bowing down shading that aged trunk smiling below along the now blue pond swimming still adorned with lilies, ready to begin life anew.