Creative Corner
Day Six, Autumn, An Unsung Story
14th March 2008
As the trees settled in the the long winter,
Various small creatures nested in them.
Although blatantly invading personal space
The trees took it as it was
It gave them immense satisfaction.
They helped the birds sleep, and breathe
And without knowing,
The birds kept the burrowing creatures away.
The trees as a collective decided
"To grow, to prosper,
That's how we'll live!"
So they did, flaring their tips to the sky
Seemingly tickling the clouds above.
The trees loved this prospect:
To touch the furthest thing away!
They only ever looked up.
One day a young man approached the trees
Calling for them to speak to him.
They were bewildered,
They looked all around,
It never occured to them: look down!
The man, saddened by the events,
Lent against the tallest tree and sighed,
Which sent a shiver up its bark.
It looked down at the man
And it saw across its world
It shed a leaf to the beauty
On that morn'.
The young man caught it absently
He stood with a fright
"Do I sadden you?
For I would rather leave!"
The tallest tree swayed
Out of sync with the rest:
The man took this, rightly, to be an invitation.
By now the collective trees realised,
And they let their sights venture down
And they too shed a leaf.
For the man it was too much,
As was it for the trees.
They could not think of what to give;
This man had shown them so much.
But as chance should have it
A wind tunnelled through
A serene whistle filled the air
And the man's heart
As the trees swayed side to side,
Ensuring the right sound was made.
He shed a tear and thanked them,
And after a short while bid farewell.
He returned once a year then after,
Reminding the trees to look all around.
One year he stopped.
He never came back.
The trees in mourning shed their leaves
Leaving them bare:
Making the serene sound,
A shrill howl.
The birds, who had sat as voyeur 'til now
Took flight to find him
They travelled far and wide,
They found him dead, of age,
A thing trees knew nothing of.
They could not bare to reveal the truth.
So every year the trees did mourn,
And every year the birds did fly
As if to search for the man,
But in truth they searched for all that he had touched
And found so many things;
And they themselves realised he had affected them too
For they had widened their worlds in search
And so they were grateful to him also.
Years after his death,
The trees serenely sounded in hope
Then turned to shrill mourning,
And the birds flew,
Finding new places.
Soon other creatures saw these things,
And went in search of answers,
Giving his unlikely legacy true immortality.
Peter King