The Tree By The Lake

Far beyond his own backyard, a young boy wanders through the early morning of a new spring.

All vibrance of the world had been reserved for film, before he walked on grass this green. It kept impressions of each footstep, as a makeshift slingshot hung loosely at his side. Here in the deepness of this quiet forest, where the sky is blue as the sun is bright, rests an old gray lake. He kneels to pluck stones from the shore, and begins to hum out a melody. The lyrics were mumbles, so he couldn't tell if it came from him, or his mother. Perhaps he had heard it to the sound of dinner cooking, and the lack of pots and pans had attributed to its obscurity.

His mind had wandered far too long when he heard it. A sound which claimed territory over land and sky; or at least the parts he was in. It contained a certain desperation- the noise, as if the planet would fall apart at his presence. Birds within branches grew silent, and the air brought a tightness to his chest. With a lump in his throat, and a sharpness in his lungs, he waits for the animal to reveal itself.

It wasn't long before he caught sight of her. Within the canopies of trees and leaves; a still, and lonesome owl perched at her nest, absorbed by disturbances the boy was unaware of. He collects a pebble from his pocket. It wouldn't have happened, had the breeze reached his skin before the stone met the rubber. A blind moment between hand and air, had robbed him of blinks or breaths. But she fell like rain, fast and hard. How haunting it was, the hollow thud of her body meeting Earth. And so silence possessed the forest as fast as guilt did his mind. ____________________________________________________

The following summer brought forth an unbearable heat.

Two children in their sunscreen and sandals, wander through the deepness of a quiet forest. What trouble they had brought their father on days like these, when the heat made them restless and tired. They had been told to leave the kitchen, and then the house, when their complaints carried through the laundry room. So now they moved in blissful aimlessness, the way most children do. Distracted just the same, by spoken thoughts and landscape.

Skin had tanned and flowers bloomed in the months succeeding spring, they gathered few along their path, to smell, and keep. Leaving trails of ¨he loves me not¨ petals, and arrangements in their hands. When their feet could carry them no more, the parting of over grown grass revealed an old gray lake. Someone had sent them down a miracle. The children soak their feet at shore, and shape flower crowns from wild daisies. And later, when the warmth of their backs had yet to subside, they find shade under a nearby tree.

It was here the young one discovered it. The bones of a small animal lay scattered beneath the swaying leaves. Neither could tell what it was, but determined it must have had wings. Only the prettiest parts were gathered. The skull most of all, would make for a fine necklace. They'd bleach her bones, and call it their good luck charm.

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Fall had come too soon, and the nights grew far too long.

A young girl, bundled in her warmest coat, breathes out into the cold early morning air. Smiling at the vapor rolling off her lips, she pretends to smoke a cigarette. Today, she had strayed from concrete, and into the forest beyond. Soaking in the solitude of it all, and the crunching of leaves beneath her boots. If she could make herself lost, and live here forever, she would. Weaving through trees and waiting for rain, she distracts herself from her destination. Only stopping to admire an old gray lake, and the bones beneath a nearby tree.

She couldn't make out what it was without the skull, but determined it must have been a bird of some sort. She felt grief for the animal, and its missing parts. Wondering what had brought it to death. Still she gathered what was left, and used her bare hands to dig a shallow hole within the Earth. Expecting later to be scolded for the dirt beneath her nails, and her late arrival to school. She placed the bones inside the hole and covered them with soil. Then kneels to collect stones from the shore, and wanders back towards the patch of fresh dirt. Here she places them, in a uniform circle, marking the grave of this unknown animal.

She stands, brushing the dust from her knees and hands, to wish rest upon the birds soul.