Framing up the walkway stands a tree on the right and to the left is the lamppost painted green. It's a slender little tree; like a poplar or a cottonwood. The tree has that bend-don't-break attitude but hunches over nonetheless, nearly to the point of performing both tasks, despite his intent. See, trees aren't used to insomnia. They get their daylight at day and their rest at night. This chap, however, stays out late with his one and only friend, the lamppost painted green. I've heard that plants will grow away from darkness rather than toward light, but perhaps this tree has found something better, something worth growing for. Most trees get over their fear of the dark; they're strong and are adjusted to life at night and day alike. This tree, however, can barely stand on its own. Someday, despite all the happiness they share, the lamppost painted green is going to kill his friend the tree, although not his intent. But for now, while the days are young and the park bench stands nearby to catch them lest they fall, the two friends keep company, the tree trying ever so hard to lean closer and closer to his friend the lamppost painted green and the warm evening light he gives.
And at the wisend age of twenty-seven the tree is still afraid of the dark.
4 comments:
What sweetly poetic neighbors you have!
yeah, they keep me up at night with their waxing.
Oh, this is lovely and sad. It says perhaps far too much about the state of my emotions today that I'm identifying with that tree so strongly. Beautiful little parable here, Ruxton, and thank you for hopping on the whimsy bandwagon with such verve.
strangely enough it's one of my favorite sights in the world. due to its close proximity to lamp it just bends. the fact that it's artificial light does not matter, only that its immediate surroundings is an absence of darkness.
of course the funny thing is that all its tree cousins were hunched from the snow, so just for a day this guy looked like the tallest and proudest.
Post a Comment