The Old Man Tree

The old man tree lived alone in a giant field.  "I've lived a long life," he thought, "I am happy."

When the old man tree smiled, his trunk creased and wrinkled in a thousand little cracks.  He smiled often.

The old man tree watched the birds fly towards him, across the field from the hills that tumbled along the eastern edge.  He noted their colors: spottled brown, speckled purple, spookled blue.  The birds landed in his branches and sang to him.  They sang songs of news, of history, of humor, of fantasy.  All the while they sang, the old man tree chuckled to himself, "I have friends.  I am happy."

The old man tree felt the cool, clear rain pitter patter on his dry, cracked skin.  He felt the soil expand to welcome the rain, and he eagerly drank the droplets that found their way to his roots.  He felt his green green leaves plump and ripen with the fresh water.  Life hummed through him as the rain coursed through his branches to the outermost twigs.  "I have water.  My body is strong," he mused, "I am happy."

When the rain was finished and also the night, the sun rose from behind the hills.  Light spread everywhere; the delicious food soaked across his eager, hungry leaves.  As they absorbed the radiant energy of the sun, the old man tree beamed.  "I have food," he sang, "I am happy."

The old man tree lived his long, long life in the field.  Every day, he found many reasons to be happy.  Every day, he smiled and talked to himself of the blessings of life.  "Life is a reward in itself," he would say. "I live a beautiful life, and that's all there is.  And I am happy."

And then one night, the rain came again.  No soft pitter patter; it came in glass sheets.  It prickled and poured and needled and splashed all over the ancient, worn trunk of the old man tree.  Still, the old man tree was happy.  He did not fear the storm.

The storm thrashed and crashed.  It moaned and groaned.  Lightening flared and thunder shattered.  The old man tree creaked as he swayed in the wind.  His rain-soaked face held a smile.

Finally, a giant bolt of lightning arced across the sky and cracked the old man tree in two.  For a moment, nothing happened.  And then, slowly and gently, a sparkling mist arose from the broken branches.  It spread out slightly. Little bits of mist reached the edge of the field, but most of the glimmering silver cloud remained at the center.  And then the little diamonds began to sink.  Deep, deep down into the grass, into the earth, sank the silvery mist.  

And just as the last drops descended, the moaning wind picked up a bit of laughter, and carried it around the field and into the hills.

The End