High above the shifting seasons, the Tree gazed down at the Forest-Jungle below.
As its leaves twisted and wandered away, it could feel the chipmunks gathering nuts before winter. And as its branches vanished beneath the magical snow, it watched the rabbits bound gracefully, scavenging for unprotected moss. They left precarious footprints behind, and the Tree waited for the foxes to glide up from their quarries. It listened for the first whistles of the chickadees and the returned rush of the river, sounds that announced its new wardrobe and the commencement of spring. As the weeks blossomed with the tulips beneath it, the Tree observed the Forest-Jungle come to life once again. it was there to witness it all, seemingly sturdy as ever. But while its trunk grew stronger with the passage of time, the Tree felt weaker as each day went by. While the woodpeckers came and went, the Tree felt a persevering gnawing at its core.
Oh how it yearned to fly like the birds. How it dreamed to crawl through the soil and the shrubs and explore all the mysterious pockets of the Forest-Jungle. Oh how it wished to wisp through the air like the leaves it shed each year, with no direction but every intention. How it craved to be the whimsical wind, invisible and carefree while so present in all places. What it would give to dash through the woods, to clamber through the thickets, to leap through the brush. The Tree knew that one day it would grow too old for its bark, that its seed would be whisked to another part of the Forest-Jungle, and from there would begin life anew. Until then it could only wonder, its thoughts swaying longingly like its branches in the breeze.
It was a particularly serene autumn day when the Tree first felt it. It started at its trunk. It was unyielding but gentle. It slowly ascended, this sensation, thoughtfully working its way through the lower branches. As the movement climbed, the Tree couldn’t help but laugh at the feeling of its leaves being tugged. It peered down curiously and saw a Koala emerging through its rustling twigs. She was distinct from any other animal it had seen in the Forest-Jungle, and she held on with an unexpected power. And unlike the squirrels that would whiz through its sprigs or the monkeys that would swing through its branches, the Koala stayed. Weeks went by, and the Tree expected her to have grown tired of its leaves and have passed along to the next tree, but the Koala remained.
What is this animal, the Tree thought, whose limbs grace her to travel the lengths of the Forest-Jungle, but who chooses to linger with me?
The Tree grew very fond of the Koala, how she would nestle between its welcoming arms, how she would vault so confidently from one branch to another, how she was constant while the seasons changed, and how she found contentment without needing to search for it. When mold sprung up along the Tree’s bark, the Koala would chew it away, and when rain poured down and flooded the Forest-Jungle, the Tree made a canopy to protect her. When predators sauntered by, eyes darting in every direction, the Koala would conceal herself in the shadows of its foliage, and when the pestering rodents would gnaw at the Tree’s bark, the Koala would claw at them until they scurried away.
The Tree became happier with every rising of the sun. Waking up each morning to see its friend brought great joy, and though it continued to yearn about the future, it learned to appreciate the present like its curious pal. While the other creatures moved restlessly throughout the Forest-Jungle to find sustenance and amusement, it began to understand that there was power in not needing to.
The Tree had spent endless hours dreaming about the day it would replant in a new patch of fertile earth, but when its bark began to wither and the time had finally come, its eagerness had transformed into nostalgia. The Tree once had the strongest bark in the Forest-Jungle yet felt weaker than a sapling, but as its trunk grew weary now, it felt more powerful than a Giant Sequoia. There was sadness in its heart as the winds carried its seed through the air, but there was vigor in its soul, uplifted by its time with the Koala. When the gusts subsided and it settled in a lush clearing, the Tree pondered on its life. Though it realized it would continue to change like the shifting seasons above, it was grateful for everything. The Tree knew it would never forget these roots.