from August 2014
An ancient oak rests among the elms and birches. Its branches gnarled and twisted, the trunk thick and ridged. It’s very old. Children have built a platform where its trunk splits into thick limbs. A boy fashioned rope ladder dangles from a planked room housed with a tiny window. A bucket hangs on knotted rope above a flower bed nestled between roots and garlands of fresh blossoms, and vines hang from its branches. You can tell the children adore the tree and the tree for its part seems to take pleasure in the children and their games.
Long has it stood here! In ages past they used to call it “the wishing tree” and many a wish it heard whispered, long ago. The whisperers are gone now, waiting in the earth, but the tree lives on. It sees the whishes come and go. It alone has seen them manifest upon…
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