The Woodsman planted two trees
Side by side, in a field, by a brook.
The sun shone, the rain fell, the trees grew.
They tickled each other with their branches,
And the wind rustled their leaves
Making them laugh with delight.
As the seasons came and went
Their branches twisted together in a tight embrace.
Birds rested and sang and raised their young
On the double strength of those branches entwined.
Then cold winds blew, and icy daggers slashed at their limbs,
But the trees held on and leaned into each other
Till the tightness of their clasp left scars that stuck,
But they dug deep with their roots,
And drank life from the brook.
Their trunks grew thicker inching them closer and closer
Till the two became one.
Seeds fell from their branches and saplings appeared.
Soon a mighty forest stood
In what was once a field.
The songs of the birds and the laughter in the leaves
Grew stronger and bolder.
Flowers appeared—rare and exotic—
Hidden in the shelter of the trees.
The sun smiled at the loveliness of it all.
Music, beauty, laughter, and strength—
The Woodsman planted two trees.
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