Writing Assignment #4, Draft 1

The Tree

A small, delicate brown bird perched on the steady branch of the tree. Her minute talons sank into it’s bark, leaving invisible marks. She cocked her head and peered down at the deer grazing in the sun-dappled shade. The forest was a symphony of trilling birdsong, the gentle murmuring of the warm wind, and the comforting hum of crickets. A squirrel popped up onto the limb opposite the bird, startling her into flight. She took off and wheeled above the sea of waving foliage.
The tree felt the bird leave, and the tickle of the squirrel’s paws. It watched the graceful deer gazing at it with moist eyes while they slowly chewed their mouthfuls of grass that they had cropped up from the tufts around the it’s roots. The tree could feel moss blossoming on it’s trunk, could hear the rhythmic liquid gurgle of the nearby stream, and perceived the wind dancing with it’s leaves.
That night, the tree was saturated with cool rain that ran down it’s branches. The rich roll of thunder echoed within it’s trunk, and swift sprays of lighting split the air. When the shower was done, animals lapped up the puddles that has collected between the tree’s roots. A milky alabaster moon washed the clearing with pale light. The tree felt a peace reach all the way down to it’s roots, and watched the sun rise and illuminate the fat droplets of dew and rain on it’s leaves.
That was the last time it rained for a very long time.
The heat of summer brought an unforgiving drought to the forest. No rain had come for weeks,a and the tree felt dry and barren. It thirsted for moisture, and the sweet soggy caress of rain. The grass around it had withered, and the animals seemed to have disappeared. The soil around it had caved in slightly, and it’s roots did not feel stable, they could not grip the crumbling earth. When the sweltering wind blew, the tree moaned deep within itself because it knew that it would fall and die soon.
The heat was unbearable that midnight. The tree could see the stars blistering and blinking, sunk deep within the sky. The air was thick and still, and some of the tree’s bark had begun to crack. The sap oozed out of it’s wounds like blood and melted down it’s trunk. Then, out of nowhere, a cool breeze ruffled it’s wilted leaves. As the wind picked up, the tree began to sway. It’s roots started to loose grip, they were too brittle to hold. Finally it fell. Dead quiet reigned as it slowly plummeted toward the parched earth. A crash, and a bitter silence. Then, a soft moan of relief and release echoed to the sky. Suddenly, a single drop of rain kissed the tree’s ravaged bark. Then the stars opened, and water poured from the clouds. The forest came back alive.
The tree can see the moon more clearly now. It can feel the deer close by again, the moss and rain repairing it’s wounds, and where it’s roots used to be, a new tree is reaching towards the stars.