The Singular Singing Tree

Once upon a time, not very long ago, in the middle of a field stood one, lone tree. Surrounded by acres of soft, fluffy, white balls of cotton, the lone tree appeared quite majestic, as if the royal overseer of all that gathered around it in awe of its glory. The beautiful, old maple tree had planted its roots in this spot over fifty years ago, claiming stake to the territory, almost daring anything else to come near. For most of those fifty years, the tree had stood planted there, season after season, as its beautiful leaves changed colors right along with the sunsets: greens to vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows. The singular tree, although unbeknownst to passersby, had a hidden talent: one that the glorious display of colorful leaves helped it conceal because admirers never came closer than needed to capture its grandeur in photos.

So for fifty years, the tree had enjoyed the peaceful solitude of being the only tree in a huge field. It was on a magical, breezy day when the tree was a mere three years old that it had first discovered its hidden talent. On that momentous day, as the soft breeze had blown its tiny, fragile limbs and leaves, the tree discovered that it had a voice; a delicate, soft, singing voice. Now, the tree could not muster words you see, but rather it harmonized a soft, mesmerizing tune that wafted hauntingly across the huge field each time the wind blew. Even at times, as the tree grew larger and more magnificent, it discovered that no wind was required for singing; it could simply dig deeply to its roots and form a vibration that resulted in a deeper, more soothing sound somewhat likened to a cello.

So the tree stood there proudly, glorifying in all the beauty around it while entertaining itself and the occasional bird, butterfly, deer, or other wildly unexpected visitor with its magical voice. Sometimes even at night, the crickets and other night creatures would submit to complete silence in order to be lulled to sleep by the soothing lullabies of the tree. When this happened, the tree would find itself so honored and humbled that it would let out a deep sign of joy, relishing in the beauty and solitude that had become it's kingdom.

One life-changing morning, however, the tree was startled from a deep sleep by the sound of huge machines which seemed to race back and forth tearing up the ground for as far as the tree could see. The tree had never witnessed such and found itself quite curious, imagining that it's fame had spread so far that people had now been sent to tend to the kingdom, making it match more appropriately with it's grandiose king. Following a few days of loud machinery of different types which left the field completely barren, life returned to normal and the tree found itself quite relieved that all the intrusion was over. It had not felt much like singing during those curious days of disruption and now made up for lost time by singing unabashedly for hours on end. Little by little over the next three days, things returned to normal as the wilderness creatures began to come back around and the tree could take a deep sign of relief in its solitude once again.

Sometime between the third and seventh day, the tree noticed that small plants had begun to sprout up around its base and actually for as far as the tree could see. Ahah, the tree thought, they have planted something equally magnificent as a form of admiration. As the plants grew, the tree found itself a bit perplexed: they were nothing necessarily majestic, beautiful, or colorful as it had suspected. However, one day, the crude, brown balls that decorated the plants began to burst open to reveal soft, fluffy, white balls that cascaded for as far as the tree could see, giving the appearance of clouds on the ground. Amazing! The tree now knew what the plan had been all along. The fluffy white field now made the perfect backdrop to highlight the tree's majestic beauty! During the day, the tree would stand proudly, imagining the passersby just in awe of its grandeur and wishing that it could step outside the field somehow to get a good look at itself amongst the beautiful, cascading, white field.

Now, as the winds would softly sway the limbs and leaves of the tree as it sang, it would likewise wisp through the cotton fields, adding a soft whisper to the tree's harmonious song. They actually made quite the perfect accompaniment for the tree's singing. But as luck would have it, once the cotton had opened into full bloom, something unfortunate and terribly annoying began. Each night, just as the tree had finished its final nighttime lullaby and had closed it's eyes to rest after a long day of standing tall and proud, the cotton would begin to chatter haphazardly amongst itself. It was such a deafening chatter that the tree could get no rest at all. Whereas mornings had always been the tree's favorite time of day because it could stretch and yawn as it awakened from a glorious night of rest to relish in the beauty of the new day, it now found itself groggy and grumpy, without even an ounce of desire to open it's eyes and sing. The perfection of it's over fifty years in this spot had been sneakily stolen by a million, tiny, little, white, fluffy balls!

The tree found itself counting the days, praying for a reprieve from the incessant chattering at night and hoping to find a renewed desire to stand tall and sing again. But each day, the tree was so exhausted that it could not keep it's eyes open much less bring itself to sing. Little by little, the tree began to fade: its limbs began to sag and its leaves no longer displayed brilliantly. One day, when a strong wind blew, instead of the tree singing a soothing song, one of it's limbs broke and fell onto the ground. Horrified, the tree looked down and began to sob. What had it become? What was happening? The tree wanted to scream! It wanted to yell to the cotton and demand that it leave at once! It wanted to just pick up its roots and drag itself across the road that separated it from an empty field where it might replant itself and live out the last of its years in peace and quiet. Sadly, in spite of the trees unwavering belief in its power and authority for those fifty years, it could do none of those things.

A short time later, the tree awoke once again to the sound of loud machines racing back and forth through the field. It thought to itself that this was just the straw that would break its back! Just what the tree had hoped for: more noise and intrusion. But surprisingly, it appeared that the machines were sucking up the fluffy, white balls! Wait! Could this really be happening? Had the tree's wish finally come true? Would things return to their normal state of peace and quiet? Nights filled with the soft breathing of the forest creatures after being lulled to sleep by the trees singing? Mornings filled with new beginnings and days filled with sweet singing and swaying? As luck would have it, this was the case. After three days of listening to the loud machines, they did not return. Although there were a few cotton balls left here and there, without their congregation and with their distant separation from each other, their whispers could not even be heard above the singing of the tree and the soft, gentle breathing of the forest creatures as they slept at night. The tree regained its voice and began to stand tall again. The leaves turned a brilliant array of colors and once again, with nothing to pale it's beauty, the passersby stopped in awe of the beauty of the old maple tree. The old tree stood proudly, singing its soothing song as gloriously as it ever had before, all the while, quite grateful for its own, individual glory with the realization that it had always been perfect just as it was without anything to highlight it's beauty.

As time just naturally does, it aged the tree and slowly more and more limbs withered and broke away. With fewer limbs for the wind to whistle through, the tree's song grew dimmer and sadder but it still resonated for some time. Eventually, there were no more leaves and all that was left was the broken, deteriorating trunk of the once magnificent tree. Oh the things that the old tree had witnessed and the songs that it had sung. When it could no longer make a sound, the creatures of the forest gathered around and joined together with their own beautiful lullaby to sing the old tree to sleep each night, returning the favor of many years of sweet sleep induced by the soothing song of the tree.