story time

story 2

Cold and gray, a lone tree stands. Its branches are bare of any form of greens. The grass long dead. Not a hint of life saved for one small owl. The nights filled with chilled air. Wind blow forth flurries of white. The owl, knowing no food remains, takes flight far from home. The tree, bare and broken, is left to winter winds and dark skies. The patch of dirt the grass once grew, becomes that of a rock. Unable to support grass so green. The owl long away hopes to return again. The tree, with twisted limbs, sleeps till the sun journeys back. The patch of dirt is buried in a white grave. The owl, now far away from home, chooses to continue then return in warmer times. When the tree bares more life.