The Willow Tree

The chirping of a bird calls me from my sleep. The sweet tone of its singing voice sounds so loud as it perches in the window. I slowly sit up, groggy as I turn to look at it. It is light brown, so small it could sit in my palm and one could still see the corners of my hand. The tuffs of feathers on its chest were that of a sunset orange, at the base, and charcoal black at the tips. It sang its tune as it cocked its head at me. I quietly reached my hand to touch the glass, but it immediately flew away. Oh little bird, how lucky you are that you can fly away.

     I quietly unwrap myself from the bundle of rags I call my blanket into the chill morning air. Blinking, I try to adjust my eyes to the pale morning light and begin getting dressed. I'm not going to town, so this will do. I pull on a pair of worn jeans and a stained white shirt. The only outside work clothes I really had. I pull on a pair of socks and grab a the leather boots I had found years before, thrown out into one of the dumpsters in an alley. The shoes were once a perfect fit, but appear to have grown rather snug over the past several years.

     Once the shoes are on, I walk into the kitchen and take a small piece of the sweet bread from last night as my breakfast. I walk over next to my wooden stove and open the lid up to a large clay pot. Inside, there is but small dribbles of water sitting in the crease of the bottom. I take the pot and set it by the door as I grab a horribly sewn cotton bag I had made a year ago. The bottom of the bag already has a dark brown stain from wet dirt and mud from scavenging the creek and fields behind the house. I throw the strap over my head and grab the pot, as I set out towards the creek.

     The door creaks closed behind me. A gentle thud lets me know that its short journey from open to closed has been completed. I look to my right, gazing over the blanket of fog laying upon the town. Brief flickers of light, probably from families who arise early, shine through the hazy gray cloud. I slowly close my eyes and take in one of my two favorite times of day. In the early hours, were few are awake, and even the sun has yet to show its blinding glow beyond the wall like hill in the distance, I find peace. The sounds of birds chirping, seems louder compaired to when the town just under the steep hill my house sits on is wide awake with busy bodies. I open my eyes slowly, taking a deep breath, allowing the wet air to fill my nose and give it a slight burn with it's icy bite. Then, like breaking ice to reach the liquid below, the sun creeps over the hill. The once gray fog begins to grow golden with the sunny rays, each second making it more transparent. Now I know, it is truly time to get to work.

     I turn left and follow the rather crooked trail down the right side of the hill. The trial bends and turns in strange areas, marking where I had jumped and avoided the slippery parts of the ground over the many years using this steep hill as a road. Making the final leap, I find myself standing in a worn and beaten patch at the bottom of the hill. I look ahead to the short distance until I reach a thick woodland area. The path towards the woods is much straighter than the one down the hill. I talk my time walking into the thicket of pines and twisted oaks, looking across the damp ground. Looks like Mr. Weather Man was right, it is going to be very wet today. Behind me, I slowly feel the warmth of the sun as it continues to make its slow climb. Once at the edge of the forest, I allow myself one last hug of warmth, and then I step bewteen the trees, into the domain of the forest. 

     Immediately, the air cools, and the light of the sun is swallowed up. It's like I have stepped through the veil of darkness, and like every time, I find myself holding my breath, as I gaze into it. It hues of black shifting to gray with the ascending sun. My breath releases as branches from the outter tress allow streams of light to expose some of the forest floor. I blink a few times, allowing my eyes to adjust, and then set forward on the morning journey. 

     Unlike the world ouside, I have yet to make a great path in the forest. Perhaps it is because of the creatures of night, shifting the dirt and dust. Or maybe, there is a path covered by fallen pine needles or leaves, I just have not found it. Either way, path or not, I know where to go, because, where the wild onions grow, that is my favorite place. I continue on, weaving my way through trees, a happy bubbling feeling growing in my stomach. 

Deep, deep in the forest, I stand. To the right, sprouts of onions spring from the ground like a fence encircling the most beautiful place. It is a huge clearing, with a small pond, and a large willow tree beside it. Its long, wispy branches barely touch the silver water, like the gentle linger of a hand on the small of your back. The giant hole in the canopy of trees is like a spotlight upon the place, making the green leaves glow with vibrant life. I smile and set my things down before walking to the great willow tree and sit at its base. I stare across the still water, my reflection shown in a light gray hue, making me look pale. I feel my bubble of peace beginning to pop, so I quickly look away, trying to rid my mind of the picture I had seen. That is why I do not own mirrors. I lean my head against the trunk as I look around the area. No sooner than my head has touched the bark that I remember the sweet slice of bread in my pocket. I quickly and carefully reach into my pocket and pull it out. I pull small pieces of it off and place it into my mouth, allowing the sweetness to fill my body with fuel and energy. I continue to look around at the scene in from of me. 

     Far away a bird tweets a song, sweet like the bread in my mouth. The trees surrounding the clearing are dense, denser than the trees that lined the bottom of the hill. I look at the dark knotting bark that clothes the pine trees. The trees grow tall and lean far beyond the stretches of the willow. Looking beyond them is futile, since they only show an inky, black color. It is like a curtain of night, and this glowing area is but the single star in its empty universe. I gaze at it, like I would gaze at night sky when laying on the roof of the home, and like at night, I begin to feel a heaviness in my body. The same feeling I often feel when falling asleep. 

***

Hello again! I am so happy you tuned in for the second chapter! Currently, the chapters are rather short, but they will increase in length as time goes on!

I want to thank you for taking your time to join in my story, and I am super excited to be here! (So exited that I wanted to post an extra chapter to give a little more content for you readers).

Thank you so very much and I hope to see you next time!

Sincerely,

P&P