“Well,” stated the Tree, “winter will soon be upon us.”
The Earth said nothing. Holding the Tree tightly, she recalled in a whisper their shared anticipation of spring, the comforting shade of summer, the bracing sting of early autumn.
Concerned for the wellbeing of her friend, the Earth wondered aloud, “Are you all right, Tree?”
The Tree rustled leaves as she continued, “I mean, with air so cold and frost plucking at your leaves you must know these are your last days. Is there anything I may do for you? Tell me, Tree. During these remaining days what would you like to do?”
Looking around at his greying neighbors the tree swayed lazily. Then, under cover of an autumn breeze, he shook his branches mightily and covered the Earth in a velvety cloak of red.
The Earth beamed upon receipt of this unanticipated gift.
“What will I do with my remaining days?” asked the Tree. “Before winter stakes its claim, I will share all I have. I will exhaust myself as I let loose my remaining colors. And I will stand here and wait for winter naked; knowing I have nothing left to give.”
His words, the gift of his leaves, poured forth like fire.
And steeled for the arrival of winter, the Tree bloomed anew.
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