{photo friday+words} her very own 'giving tree'

The creek rushed through the canyon
Filled with life: newt, trout, tadpoles, 
a myriad of life too small 
for the naked eye to see
Onward it raced to join the Pacific.
Along it's banks,
lush green trees
and moss covered rocks.

And on one tree...

A rope swing swayed gently
in the warm summer breeze,
a beacon to children
who dared to climb it's trunk
and hop on.

We were at our campsite mere minutes
when the girl with the strawberry curls
braved the slippery rocks
with that carefree abandon of a child...

She made her way to the other side,
stretched her body as long as she could
to catch hold of the rope.

With mischievous giggles,
she jumped on the swing
and kicked off the fallen tree trunk 
laying at the base of this tree...
this "giving tree."
Giggles turned to laughter
as she swung ever higher...

And so I was reminded,
as I watched her swing
of a story read once in my youth:

"Once there was a giving tree who loved a little boy.  
And everyday the boy would come to play
Swinging from the branches, sleeping in the shade
Laughing all the summer’s hours away.
And so they love, 
Oh, the tree was happy.
Oh, the tree was glad."

And so was this little girl
with the strawberry curls
swinging on the rope
from this tree...
her very own giving tree.

from the archives: June 2006

(excerpt from 'The Giving Tree' by Shel Silverstein)


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