The Tree A sixty-five year-old apple tree is growing in my front yard. It stands perfectly centered in between my house, and my detached two-car garage. The base of its trunk leaves the ground at a slight angle, giving the impression that it’s leaning forward. The surrounding ground is un-even and bumpy with roots weaving in and out of the earth, as if they are seeking a breath of fresh air. Unlike the rough …showed first 75 words of 618 total…

…showed last 75 words of 618 total…much like an aging man losing his hair, they fly off into the air. Heavy laden with fruit, its arm like branches slump over, with some touching the ground. Fully spent from its production, the tree appears to be tired, and in need of rest. As disappearing leaves reveal a skeleton like silhouette, the tree slowly slips into deep sleep. Once again, its cycle is complete, and it will rest quietly in preparation for re-birth.