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[dibidibidis]

please delete

[dibidibidis]

please delete

[dibidibidis]

please delete

[dibidibidis]

I will give this a Fancy Title later

There once was an old oak, and with it, a bluebird.

Everyday the bluebird would leave in the morning, and return in the night to it’s nest, where her single hatchling slept away. The oak sheltered her and her nest, and in return, the bluebird kept the tree company by singing it’s melodious tune. They lived together, helping eachother, but yet they were discontent.
They each envied the other.
The bluebird felt small - unable to protect itself from predators. The oak was great, and fearless. The bluebird wished for the tree’s long life and wisdom. She wondered what it would be like, to stand tall without a care for the world, without fear from predators being constantly in her mind.
But the oak knew better. Everyday he watched the bluebird soar in the clouds up high, listening to it’s happy greetings and shouts. The tree was old, and lusted for the freedom of the young birds doing pirouettes in it’s branches. He had lived through great wars and famine - things so terrifying and gruesome that he wished he’d never witnessed. He was constantly battling with other plants underground, root against root, trying to find nutrients in order to live. If only he could be free like the creatures living in between his arms.
One day, the bluebird didn’t return from her day out. The oak listened intently to the chatter of the crows. Fire! They screeched at eachother. The creatures of the forest ran past the sad oak, not sparing a glance behind them. Just as the oak glimpsed the orange blossoms of flame, a shrill cry rang out from in his arms. The little bluebird was trapped, and it’s mother had come back, frantically trying to save him.
The tree knew he was about to perish in the midst of the burning tinder, so gently, with all his remaining energy, he lowered his branches, letting the little one scramble away. He didn’t know if it would make it out in time, but he did what he could. Slowly, the once great oak let himself drift off in the warm blankets of blazing ember, welcoming him in with tender licks of flame.

A few years later, the forest was once again full of life. The birds danced through the air, the squirrels leapt from tree to tree, the crows gossiped on and on. And a lone bluebird was perched in the branches of a young oak sapling. Beneath this sapling were the remains of his mother, who had died trying to save him from a fire a long time ago. The bird sang softly to the sapling, wishing he were as strong as the growing trunk of the oak.
And the oak, still young, laughed.

[dibidibidis]

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