text: I don’t want to talk about the forest. I won’t go on about the way it creaks and howls as it fights with the wind, or how the leaves dance against another amidst this brawl. No, I won’t mention the beasts that reside there, nuzzling in bushes and making roofs from branches. I want to talk about a tree. This tree is deep in the thick of the forest, and deeper still, past the creek, past deadfalls and beaver dams. This tree pierces through the sky and has done so for generations. It has withstood storm and toil. This tree is a monument to nature’s arrogance. I want to talk about a man. A prideful man who set into this forest to build a home. He took his ax to this tree, chopping at its impenetrable bark. His saw snapped, its teeth barely scratching the tree’s flesh. He could not uproot its veins, buried further than he could dig. Through the seasons, and the man’s best efforts, the tree stood, still. The man laid against his opponent, exasperated. If he could not take this tree down, he would build his home around it. His ax chopped down the tree’s brothers and sisters, his saw transforming them to logs. The man built a home. Years passed and skyscrapers were erected. Soon, the tree was no longer the tallest monument in the forest. Soon, the tree was forgotten. The man’s daughter happened upon it one day, a girl just as proud as her father. She wondered why this tree had been allowed to stay in place of all the others. Her home was growing larger, after all, and they could use the space this tree was consuming. It’s roots, twisted and unsightly, were soaking up water they could surely use. The girl set out to complete what her father could not. Though the steel in her ax was stronger than her ancestor’s, she was still unable to pierce the formidable trunk. No blade she forged could puncture its shell. Her ropes unraveled with every attempt at an uprooting. Finally, with all options exhausted, if this stubborn tree would not move, she would simply destroy the ground it stood on. She forged a torch from its branches and placed fire at its feet. The dark of the forest crackled. The girl’s face glowed, soaked in victory. The tree did not give in. It called on its old sparring partner. Gusts brushed beneath its fiery leaves, red and gold, flames dancing in the sky. The wind was generous in its dispersal. The girl watched in terror as the fire she started spread further than she could control. The embers were returned to her and she glowed once again, dancing a final, shrieking dance. The heat nipped at the skyscrapers; a magnificent orange roared through the buildings and the homes that were once trees turned to a forest of flames. The wind called on a favor from the clouds and the rains came and extinguished the danger. The smoke cleared, ash lay in place of the homes, and the tree stood, still.