Here is a little story I came up with this morning. Its about life in a park on a windy day and how people don't take the time to see the little things around them. Life on the planet is so relaxing as it happens before your eyes.
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The trees lean towards the left as the breeze cuts across the park. From across the park I can see people hurrying in and out of shoppes; scurrying like mice in a rain storm. Not a drop of water has fallen yet but the everyones faces will tell you otherwise.
A steady line of leaves roll past my feet as I sit on the bench. Alternating between red, orange and brown; they jump and dance in the air as if happy to have escaped from the clutches of the trees.
Naked and alone, a single sapling stands shivering to my right. If it were a person I would gladly give it my sweater, as I'm finding it a little warm today. I wait for the tree to get swept out of the ground as a strong gust picks up. The tree seems determined to hold its ground, not willing to move for anyone.
From around the corner of a building a man in a suit comes running. With a briefcase in hand, he attempts to seek refuge from the impending storm. He runs across the park with one hand on his head and the other holding his briefcase over his head. He is attempting to keep his hair piece from blowing away; days like these make me wonder why he even bothers.
He runs without looking. His eyes are fixed on one thing only, making it across the park without getting wet. Full of determination and confidence, he looks as though he has just negotiated the contract of his life.
Feeling as though he's still in control of everyone around him, the high powered business man almost knocks over a toddler playing in the sand. He quickly side steps the helpless child and curses under his breath.
A snarling mother looks on from a nearby bench. She begins to yell at the man, but he is too wrapped up in his own mind to even care what she has to say.
From this distance I can not make out any of the words. I sense the anger by the look on her face.
I want to intervene as he runs by me, glaring at me from the corner of his eye. I want to tell him that he can't do as he pleases.
Words escape me.
Instead I watch helplessly as the man tramples on the tree, snapping it near the base.
It is motionless, no longer swaying in the breeze. He did not even glance to see what he had stepped on.
The man is now around the corner of the building. On his way to snuff out another life, I assume.
Inside my head I can no longer hear the chatter of the tree telling me about his heritage. Emotion swells up in my eyes as I look at the tree trying to determine if it will be able to continue to grow. Maybe the tree will grow up with some character, a good place for children to play and build a fort.
My hopes are quickly dashed as a heavy gust picks up blowing a newspaper around. The thick and heavy paper gets tangled in the small branches of the tree. When the paper passes over top of the crippled tree only the stump is still there.
As the wind dies down I can see the trunk of the tree sticking out from underneath the sports section just a few feet in front of me.
From across the park I hear the muted laughter of the child playing with their toys. The sadness is lifted from me, the world is moving on.
A bird lands near the paper, foraging for some materials to fortify its nest. The instinct to protect its young is strong. Seeing the remains of the young tree the bird quickly hops over to it and carries it off into the sky.
As I stand I can feel the ache of pain in my knee from the impending rain. I turn to look back on the park and the happiness it brings.
I make a note to myself to return tomorrow with another tree to put in its place.
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