A Life Ornamented

A young girl meanders far from home

on a winter adventure

through thickets of forest.

She comes upon

a tiny pine tree,

its tip a sprig in the snow.

She almost steps on it,

but doesn’t.

She leans down and brushes the snow

from its branches, low and high

then digs down and down

with wet mittens

and wild wonder

until she reaches the base

of the teeny thing.

It is a foot tall, at most.

She pulls off her mittens

and slides from her left wrist

her jade-beaded bracelet that is

adorned with one charm - a gold star.

She hangs it on the tippity-top sprig of the tree.

She stands up and looks down.

“I’ll remember where you are in this great forest.

How could I not?

You’re my new friend.

I’ll bring another ornament for you next year.

And I’ll cast a ring of light around you,

so that between now and then,

no one finds you or cuts you down.

You will live as long as you wish.

I love you, Tree.

See you next year.”

The young girl plops to her knees

and hugs the tree, pausing in the embrace,

And then stomps through the snow

For a long journey home.

Seventy-eight years later.

An old woman meanders far from home

on a winter adventure

through thickets of forest.

She comes upon

a grand pine tree,

its tip a sparkle high in the sky.

She almost misses it, her eyesight fading,

but doesn’t.

She approaches the tree and brushes the snow

from its branches, low and high

then reaches up and up

with wet mittens

and wild wonder

until she reaches the highest branch she can

of the towering thing.

It is a hundred feet tall, at least.

She pulls off her mittens

and slides from her left coat pocket

a small felted cardinal ornament.

She hangs it a few branches below last year’s ceramic angel.

She stands back and looks up.

“I’ll remember where you are in this great forest.

How could I not?

You’re my old friend.

I’ll bring another ornament for you next year.

And I’ll cast a ring of light around you,

so that between now and then,

no one finds you or cuts you down.

You will live as long as you wish.

I love you, Tree.

See you next year.”

The old woman rises to her tippity-toes

and hugs the tree, pausing in the embrace,

And then stomps through the snow

For a long journey home.

I'm Jessica Amber Barnum (Jess). I'm an Intuitive and Author.