Tree Sadness
The Father of Trees was angry with his son. He heard longing in the song of his son that carried on the winds. He called out his sleigh. Every part of it was made of the bones of trees, and highly polished. He threw a pinch of pollen into the air and chanted a call for the winds to aid him in his journey, and, reluctantly, they did.
He sped to where his son was. His garment was the brown of bark, his robe was the green of new needles and it streamed behind him as he sped, his hair was white like snowcaps, but his eyes blazed with anger like a resin fire.
When he came to the clearing where his son sang to the stars, the Tree Son fell silent. The Father of Trees dismounted and rebuked his son. “Have you not felt the pulse of the sap within your veins?” he said. “Does not the earth thrum beneath your feet when you stand still? Do you not know the greatness of lonely places where the sun shines down and the wind blows soft or hard?”
Then, in his anger, the Father of Trees cursed his son. “Enough of your singing,” he said. The Tree Son became a tree. His feet rooted down. His limbs rose and twisted. Bark muted his mouth and his eyes.
But despite the words of the curse, the Tree Son became a great oak without leaves, unlike all the other trees in that winter land which had green needles.
Thanks for reading. My goal is to update these every day through Christmas until Twelfth Night. I will try to include links so you can follow, but if not please use the Christmas Fairytale tag at the end of this post. You can also use the Merry Christmas page on the header bar above to find other writing that celebrates Christmas