The Tree by Karen Sorce

The Tree—a simile by Karen Sorce

She was old and gnarled, rooted firmly to the earth for decade upon decade.  Seasons had changed, as had her shape.  Once a tender young sapling, bending supple in the wind, smooth- barked, with more leaves growing upon her limbs every spring.  Some storms were harsher than others, some winters gentler, but still she grew.

As time went on, the creatures found places to build their nests among her branches.  Some took care to build their nest quickly; some were more slow and careful.  All kinds of creatures landed there and made their homes, laid their eggs, watched over them, saw them hatch, grow, make fledgling flights.

Some nest eggs hatched ideas, some nests held memories.  One nest’s eggs hatched the desire to learn a new language.  One nest held thoughts of her mother’s life and death. Another nest held an infant child, who grew and left the nest one day to begin his own life as a man.  Some people built unwanted nests in her outstretched limbs, full of eggs that hatched pain and disappointments.   Some creatures laid their eggs in their nests, then abandoned them.  She had nests full of visions of places out in the big world, beyond her little place in the field.  

The more gnarled her bark became, the more nests her branches held.  Music sprang from a nest, and some eggs were painted in jeweled colors of nature.  Some people who passed nearby swore they heard the sound of the sea, or voices whispering poetry and wisdom.  The winds of sadness would shake her leaves so they fell like tears.  

She would stand there, full of her ever-growing collection of nests, until nature decided her life was done.  Perhaps she could send out a seed, carried on the wind twirling and dancing as she could no longer do, to begin again.  And there would be new birds, new nests, unknown beginnings.