There was once a maple tree, all alone in the world. It grew so sadly that when the wind blew strongly from the coming storm, it threw the tree right over. Soon moss and vines began to grow over the tree, and it seemed that the earth would be grass and only that. But… No. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Saplings sprouted from what the tree had left behind. Carried on the wind, they spread all across the earth, soon to grow to be enormous forests with roots stretching from one tree to another, sending messages to each other through them. The trees had names. They all do. Over centuries, the trees adapted and changed. There were now thousands of different types of trees. The wind became their friend. The trees bent and swayed in the wind, dancing to the wind’s flowing tune. Their leaves rippled and sang a song, the song of the trees. From the stars their mother smiled at them, singing with them from the light of the silvery moon. For many nights the trees danced and sang. In time there were animals on the earth who sang with the trees. The eerie howl of a wolf, the curious hoot of an owl, the laughing call of a dolphin, the cricket’s cheerful fiddle, and so many more, all singing together. Then there were people on the earth too. The trees and the animals welcomed the people, inviting them to sing too. Some did, swaying their arms and twirling, their voices carried up to the mother tree in the stars and the playful wind lifting them to float and spin on the breeze. Other people had bitterness in their hearts. They never joined the song of the trees. Instead, they began hunting the animals and cutting the trees down, killing them and their songs. Many of the trees and animals cried for this, and became the weeping willow trees. However, the dreadful humans did not stop. They still have not stopped. They pump gas into the sky, choking out mother tree’s stars. They cut the trees. They kill the animals. And oh, they waste so very much of the earth’s gifts to them. The part of their hearts that used to love the trees and animals had turned to stone and dust and drifted away. It might soon be too late to save them from the people. The people might kill the entire song. All of the trees. All of the animals. Then, the world would be silent. Forever. The trees and the animals that are left still sing their songs and dance to the moon. Not everyone can hear their songs anymore. Can you? Or has that part of you flown away? I still hear it, on those windy, moonlit nights. The song of the trees is beautiful. I’ve danced with them too. Maybe, one day, you’ll sing it, and dance with the wind in your hair.
credit to me for the story, and canva for the thumbnail. :)
