Friday, March 20, 2020

Tree apostrophe - 3.20 #sol20 Story Challenge

Dear tree in the median outside the window above the desk where I'm writing,

Your still-bare branches seem like witch hair or, now tufted with snow, maybe a late-day Cloris Leachman 'do.

No, wait, looking more closely, now I see the spine of your trunk dividing into branches that thin and thin again at each junction. Those aren't twigs; they're dendrites! In the cloudy outline of your crown, I intuit the shape of a brain.

Nah, that's not it. You're an inverted feather duster that whisked last night's flakes from the sky's grimier corners.

Or what if, instead, you're a frozen firework, each limb of your cold wood tracing an imagined line of light?

Don't mind me. I don't think I've ever spent this much time resting my eyes on you, and we've been neighbors for more than a decade. Neighbors -- that's a funny way to refer to you, don't you think? Social distancing expectations must have me grasping at the closest connection straws. Look at you, though, all by yourself on a strip of snow-covered grass between four lanes of asphalt. Is that where you want to be, this place you've laid down your roots? Or would you rather repose in a quiet forest where coming spring breezes might ease your soon-to-be-green branches lightly against other arbors?

The writer at the desk by the window


  1. This was beautiful. I love how the longer you watched the tree the more it came in (or went out) of focus and transformed for you. You have a good neighbor there.

  2. Such a delight to read! Your similes and personification pop and sizzle like a celebratory drink. It's amazing what forced isolation will spring.

  3. Wow this is gorgeous - such imagery and layers of meaning. I might just pick a window today and see what it inspires. New connections for sure!

  4. Brian, your close-up noticings brought a whole new level of creativity to your slice today. I just took a photo of what is outside my window before I read your post. I planned to notice and wonder but think I will use your slice as a mentor text. Thanks for the visual journey.

  5. I love this. I have been involved in several writing exercises that instruct the writer to slow down and observer what is right beneath their feet, or in your case, right outside your window! Your piece turned out great as you contemplated (and shared) what you saw!

  6. A beautiful neighbor worthy of a long look. Perhaps this will give us a opportunity to take a longer look at many things as deserving.

  7. Your neighbor is quite beautiful! and so are your words

  8. What an amazing post! Such lovely writing here. The Cloris Leachman link had me laughing. Thanks for taking me away today.