The Oak Tree
The mighty Oak Tree begins it’s life as an acorn.
This seed swings in the breeze knowing that one day it shall fall.
The acorn knows the journey will be difficult.
However, the acorn knows what it will become one day and knows it has the strength inside to reach that glorious day.
The leaves rustle and fret, “You will die. We will die. This is the end.”
These things might be true, contemplates the acorn, but I know there is more than this.
“Look we are already losing the green of our youth,” cry the leaves. “Surely, we shall all soon fall.”
The acorn frets not, knowing the fall will come.
The day of freedom had arrived.
The acorn feared not as it fell.
That wasn’t so bad.
I’m not sure what all the fuss was about.
The young acorn felt the pressures from the world around it.
The cold hard ground was unwelcoming.
I thought the earth would be my home.
Why is it so hard to find somewhere to belong?
The squirrels came and took away the small acorn's friends.
This wasn’t supposed to be this way.
But as the days passed into weeks the acorn worked his way into the dirt.
That was so much easier back then, the young oak tree reflected.
Being an acorn seemed like so much trouble, but that wasn’t all that bad.
The strong winds fought against the sapling as it grew.
You can’t be here, protested the wind.
The young oak stood it’s ground.
I am mightier, the oak thought as it resisted the onslaught.
Although, I am small now, one day I will be something great.
The young oak lost track of time as the weeks slipped into months and the months passed into years.
The Oak Tree had grown to a mighty and respectable size.
However, it knew this wasn’t the end.
The Oak Tree used it’s powers to provide shade and shelter to the other creatures that passed by.
How great to be useful. To be needed, wanted, and loved.
The mighty oak lost track of time as the years slipped into decades and the decades passed into centuries.
Lightning flickered in the distant sky.
The sky blackened as the storm clouds rolled in.
As the rain poured down, the mighty oak took in the nourishment.
Refreshing.
CRACK!
The mighty oak couldn’t understand what just happened.
The pain was unknown and overwhelming.
Why was this happening?
The storm passed.
The smell of gasoline filled the air.
The buzz of the chainsaw could be heard in the distance.
Please follow me, @strangerarray, because I just wrote a story about an oak tree.
Also feel free to send donations to: PayPal.Me/michaelpaine because money doesn’t grow on trees.
man that was sad! excellent photos, love the last one.
Thanks, they were all "labeled for reuse" by google search filter (for those on steemit who are concerned.)
Great story, at least the oak tree lived a long life.
Thanks @bola