Flash-ish fiction #2

Trees I’ve Known

(a warm up writing exercise)

Reaching in all directions, none of them destinations. Loose umbrella. Stoic playmate. Part yielding, assumed forgiving. Seek out others unseen, feed them or poison them. Both have their merits. Ring o’ roses watcher. Block out light, soak up rain. Smell of past afternoon. Of climbing, hiding, solitary growing up. School projects, bark tracing, Crayons and leaves and a desk made of the very thing I had just plundered. Acorn hats, chestnuts on strings, sycamore helicopters, garish lupins. All of these free to an urban child with no pocket money. More gifts. Magic wands, perfume, unstable shelters, a crunchy soundtrack. Halter necks and suntan cream mix with damp leaves and rotting bark. On high branches I delivered queenly instructions.  At your feet mushrooms beg, soggy toenails to be plucked. Silver birch with peeling bark was best of all. Weeping willow sadness I loved. City trees shared my struggle – how to escape from constant noise and grow in confined space. Made use of by city planners to soften and deceive. I used to roll up your leaves to smoke. Now, in a wild garlic wood, I notice both hurt and new growth. Before I only saw what you could do for me.