Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Why the Willow Weeps-complete and unabridged


Some have told me that this is one of if not my best writings;better some say than "Codys Story " It is a different style of writing. Some also say "it plays out live when they read it " "a softer version of a Brokeback Mountain type story" . To me; it is just another aspect of me; however,one i take great self pride in. I hope you like it and comment. If not; comment as well.
Love Joe


Why the Willow weeps

The rope that was tied to the branch of the will tree had grown worn and was slightly unraveling.  The other end of the rope was tied around the truck tire.  The ends of the nylon rope were black from melting the ends together with a lighter; giving it added strength to hold our weight; as we took turns on the tire swing.  Years before we had wandered through these fields; these fields we called the “willows”; exploring.  We had discovered a lot.  We discovered the foundation of an old farmhouse.  Grey stones piled about three feet high; mortar now crumbled.  We stepped over the walls and eyed the tire that now hangs from the branches of this willow tree.  A slight breeze blows; spinning the tire. I can almost hear the laughter around me.

The say we hung our tire up was an amazing day.  We tossed the yellow nylon rope up into the branches of the tree.  After more than a few attempts we managed to get it over a good sturdy branch.  We shimmied up the tree and tied it good and tight.  Down below we looped the rope through the tire and tied off the ends.  A good strong and sturdy swing.

“Try it out “
I stepped through the tire; one leg at a time and sat down and kicked off with my feet.  I didn’t get much attitude.  I would be a featherweight in boxing.

“I’ll give you a push”

Reaching towards heaven! I was soaring on the swing; able to reach out and touch the gentle leaves of the willow.  The branches, almost tickling my face.  My ride was ending; yet a journey had just begun.  I touched my feet to the ground and stepped out.

“Your turn Hercules “I said jokingly

It was funny watching him get into the tire and trying to kick off.  He was packed in that swing, tighter than sardines in a tin.  His feet were pointed towards each other; almost looking pigeon toed. He was a fair bit sturdier than I was.

“Give me a push”
I leaned into his back and pushed full forward with all I had.  He was airborne; for a few seconds.  There he sat on the ground; tire still around his middle.  The nylon rope twisting in the air; still tied to the tree.

“Hmmph” He got to his feet; me laughing.
That is why he burnt the ends of the rope together. We took turns swinging.  We even tested the strength by having us both on the swing.  I sat in the tire while he stood in it; holding the rope.

We sat under that willow tree so many times; talking and in silence; yet there was a lot said.  Glancing at each other once in a while said a lot.

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I would gather up willow branches from around the base of the tree and braid them together.
“Here you go. A crown for Nero” I said
He placed the crown of willow upon his head and pretended to be Nero; playing the fiddle while Rome burned around him. Oddly enough; he looked more like he was playing the air guitar and dancing like Britney Spears.

“Come on. Let’s walk around” 
I got up from my spot and walked through the fields; back to the foundation of the farmhouse.  He was still wearing his crown.  He bent down and picked buttercups and violets and baby’s breath flowers and tucked them throughout his crown and placed it on his head.  He put his hand on his hip and strutted through the long grass; then broke into a run, yelling “Pa! Mary fell in the well”
“Oh God!” I thought. He was imitating Laura Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie.

We sat in the walls of the remains of the farmhouse and overturned rocks and poked mortar from the cracks with sticks.
“I would love to live out here; wouldn’t you? Listen “
I could only hear birds off in the willow tree and a bumblebee buzzing around my friend.

“It’s so quiet you can hear yourself think. “He said and quickly added “Okay, maybe YOU can’t hear yourself think”

“Smartass!” I said; nudging him on the shoulder.
We sat. We spoke and we communicated with so many unspoken words.

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We took our time walking back to the willow tree.
“Come on!”
From behind me; at full speed, he came running at me; hands grabbing my shoulders; his legs wrapped around my waist.

“Piggy Back ride! “ What an ass; I thought.  He has a good thirty pounds over me. I toppled over; him landing on me. I struggled from under him but was laughing so much; as he was as well,

We sat back under our tree, drinking soda we had brought with us in our backpacks.  My back against the tree. He; lying in his right side; chipping away at a branch with his pocket knife.

“Gonna make me a fishing pole” he said in a mock redneck accent
“That’s cool; but where are you going to fish; there is no water around here” I reminded him
“Never said I was fishin’, said I was gonna make a fishin’ pole”
“And what about fishing line” I asked
“We make do with what we got. There’s extra rope from the swing”

That fishing pole and line were a rare sight indeed. The rod; no thicker than a pencil; yet the line was thicker than my thumb.

“And for a hook?” I asked
“Mere technicality” he replied
“The fish will never bite on that line. They will see it”
“Maybe some will, but I am fishing for the dumb fish” he said
I rolled my eyes.  He ended up finishing that fishing pole. As dumb as it looked; I would learn later in life that it did work.
He explained how he would drop crumbs in the surface of the water and he would wait until the fish came up. He didn’t use a hook. On the end of that fishing line (rope) he had tied a rock.  Over the shoulder; he would place the road and SMACK. Fish came floating to the top of the pond.

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I often go back to that place; familiar and so welcoming to me. It is as though these gently blowing willow branches beckon to me; to sit below its branches.  Often; even when the ground is covered in snow; I would trudge through the fields just to watch the branches blow.

….as the willow weeps; at times like me 
…..across the fields; I do see...

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We wandered there so many times during summer and every so often we would hop on our bicycles and travel up the dirt path. We would drop our bikes; side by side and we would race to the tire swing.  I would slow down, just as I got to the swing.  It mattered not that you were the first to swing.  Usually; he would ask me to step on behind him; holding the nylon rope in my hands.  There were times we would both be on the swing and he would kick his feet out furiously about.  The swing would swing in a circle; picking up speed.  The colors around us blended together.  We laughed and we felt nauseous at the same time.  The tire slowed to a stop and we both slumped to the ground feeling like we would throw up. We didn’t throw up. We did that again, so many times.


A lone weekend in the summer; a few years ago we grabbed our backpacks filled with food and water and a tent and took off to the willows.  I still call it the “willows”. For some it would or could be any non-descript field; but for us; it was the willows. The tree, swing, foundation; it was all part of the “willows”.

We set up our tent and wandered the woods around us. We followed a path downhill to an algae covered pond; a new discovery for us.  We sat on an old tree that had fallen and long since lost its foliage and bark.  It lay partially across the pond.  We sat. We watched. We listened. We loved; where were, at that moment.  So many moments. Time; seemingly had stopped. Yet; around us it went on and wanting to or not; time marched on.  We hiked back up the hill gathering twigs and branches as we went.

By the time we had got a small campfire going; the sun had set and the moon was high in the sky surrounded by stars.  We sat on opposite sides of the fire poking at the embers; smoke blowing into our faces.  The boulders we used as seats radiated heat from the fire and we soon moved them back a bit.  Burning embers popped and flew from the fire; sometimes almost hitting us.

“We should have brought a radio” I said
“We don’t need music- listen.” The sky was full of stars, the moon shone brightly; and yes there was music.  Down by the pond we heard the frogs; behind us in the grass, we heard the crickets chirp.  Somewhere in the distance we heard an owl hoot. He was right. We didn’t need a radio or music; for we had something far better.  We had all the sounds of nature.  We sat by the fire, taking it all in.  The wood we had gathered quickly burnt out so we gathered some from the foundation of the farmhouse. 

….as the fire burns and the smoke does rise
……I see its reflection in your eyes
…….I tries to take my gaze off you
………but in my heart; it says its true

I sharpened the end of a branch and cooked a few wieners; turning the branch until the wieners were evenly cooked and had split open.

“Let me see that stick. I want to show you something.”
I handed him the stick and he placed a wiener lengthwise onto it.  He took his pocket knife and cut into the end of the wiener; cutting into quarters, cutting about an inch deep and then into eighths.

“Now watch the magic” he said. Little things mean a lot to me. Almost upon putting the wiener into the flames; the ends curled up. He pulled the stick from the fire and handed it to me and said “A daisy for you”

It was so cool/ I had never seen that before. I almost didn’t want to eat it but my hunger told me otherwise.

Eventually the fire burnt itself out and it was getting a bit chilly but it was still too early to head to bed.
“Here; take my sweater. I will grab my sweatshirt” he offered
I pulled the navy blue sweater over my head; smelling the Kenneth Cole Black cologne on it.

“I spy with my little eye; I see something white” he said; returning to the fire from the tent
It was almost pitch black out. Other than the moon and the stars; I could see nothing.
“The stars?” I responded
“But which one?” he asked
“You are kidding. There are millions. I don’t know which one” I said
I looked up and pointed at to be; what I thought was the most vibrant one of all.
“That one” I said; pointing. He put his head directly in front of mine and followed the length of my pointing finger with his.
“Yes. That is the one” he said
“The brightest one I see” he added

He sat back on his boulder; final embers in the fire now extinguished.
“I spy with my little eye; I see something ….”
“Not another one?” I asked
“Last one. I see something brown “
I looked around; nothing I could see “No idea “
“Your eyes” he said. I never even knew he noticed the color of my eyes. He got up and stretched his arms; rolling his shoulders.
“I think I am going to the tent now” he said
“I think I am going to sit here for a while longer” I told him
He walked behind me and headed for the tent; but called out “Hey! I spy something else brown ant it is right behind you. , A BEAR! “
I quickly spun around and he was laughing. With that; he came running at me; tackling me off my boulder and pinning me to the ground.
“Lucky for you; I am not hungry” His hands held my wrists down and he sat on my knees.  I didn’t even try to break free.  The moon shone down onto his face making the whites of his eyes look whiter and the blue so much more vibrant.

…as the moon reflects upon your eyes
…my heart makes wishes; on the stars in the sky

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The morning sun woke us early- the tent feeling like a sauna.  I stepped out if the tent; barefoot feeling the blades of grass between my toes.  I looked at the fire pit and our boulders we sat upon.  I gathered up the pieces of wood that lay around the fire pit; as we could use it again.  I bent down and picked up a piece of two by four that we had brought up from the farmhouse foundation and was about toss it into the fire pit.

“Not that one; I want that one, I am carving something on it, please don’t look at it right now” he asked me
I set the piece of wood back down and walked to our bikes and grabbed our backpacks.

After we ate a few granola bars and bottled water, we folded up our sleeping bags and headed off through the fields; both of us barefoot.  We walked onward; down a valley and up a small hill. We sat to rest awhile.  I could smell something I had always loved. It tickled my nose. It was lavender.  I inhaled deeply and stood up.  I could see acres of purple just on the other side of the hill. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me. He ran after me; quickly catching up.  It was like the scene from The Wizard of Oz in the field of poppies; yet my field of dreams was lavender.  I dropped to the ground and rolled in it.  My sweater picked up the scent. His sweater I was wearing.  A mix of lavender and Kenneth Cole Black

…I could have stayed for hours
…just rolling in the flowers
…essence of lavender and your cologne
…glad it was “we” and not me alone

“You really like this stuff; don’t you “he asked with a broad smile
“I have dreamt of lavender so many times”
We lay in the field; thick of lavender with our hands resting behind out heads, staring at the sky.
“What are some of you other dreams?” he asked
I told him some of the dreams I have; but not all.
“What are your dreams?” I asked
“Simply to live life the best way we can …isn’t that enough” he replied
“Did you know lavender is supposed to help you sleep” I asked him
“Does it help stop snoring too? You certainly snore” he asked
I poked him in the chest and told him that I do not snore.  Maybe I make noises in my sleep but I do not snore.

…woke up hearing myself cry
…eyes were wet; yet my cheeks were dry
We got up from the fields of lavender and headed back
“Hold on a second. I think I dropped my wallet- I will catch up”
I walked on and within a matter of moments he had caught up to me
“Forgot I didn’t bring my wallet”

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The second night we sat around the fire listening once again to the sounds of nature’s symphony; making floral wieners yet again and toasting marshmallows.  We would toast the marshmallows; pull of its crusty baked shell and do it until nothing remained of the marshmallows.
I sat there. “I spy with my little eye, I see something blue” It was my turn
“The sky above us “he asked
“Nope”
He hesitated and looked around “The tent?”
“Wrong again”
“I give up “he said
“Your eyes” I said and turned my sights to the flickering flames that lapped at the underside of the wood.  Bat flew above us and little moths fluttered near the fire; sometimes getting to close to the fire.
He picked up the two by four piece of lumber and opened his pocket knife. Chipping away. Chipping away. Methodically . He carved away at it for hours. I tried sneaking glance and he would gently scold me with “hey Hey hey” My eye and thoughts were lost in the night sky.  I seen the same star we eyed playing “eye spy” the previous night. I stared at it. At times it looked as though it blinked; urging me to make a wish on it.  I had wished on so many stars; so many different stars. Would this one be any different?  I made my wish soon; I hoped I would get my wish. Very soon, I hoped.

“Okay-finished do you want to see it now?”  I jumped from my boulder and moved over to him; standing and looking in awe. I am so glad I stood behind him so he couldn’t see the tears in my eyes.  On that piece of wood. Now a work of art; he had carved the willow tree ; complete with the swing. He had meticulously carved in the foundation of the farmhouse. In doing so he had carved a deeper impression in my heart and soul.

“That is awesome “I said trying to hold back my true excitement
I handed it back to him. “Can you put the date on it too?”
“Do you always date your memories? This is a piece of wood. I could toss it in the fire and we’d still have the memories of the tree swing, the willow tree everything” he said; sounding a bit perturbed
He was right but he had put so much effort into it. Maybe it didn’t mean the same to him. Maybe I didn’t mean as much to me as I mean to him.

“there’s not a thing about you or anything that we have done; or things that we have said ; or maybe things we’ve wanted to do or say to each other that I won’t remember “ he said

He handed me the carved piece of wood and walked away.
“Look on the back” he said.
I turned it over. He had already had the date and both of our initials carved into a picture of a willow tree. I was speechless.

We sat by the fire; listening to nothingness; yet everything. It was now calm; no owls hoot, not a cricket chirped. No crackling embers in the fire; just one glowing log at the bottom.
He got up from his boulder; stood behind me and with one hand on my right shoulder and his other hand brushing my brow he speaks.

“I know how you feel. I feel it too. Can we fight it? Do we fight it? Do we give into love?” and then he added “I am going to the tent now “

I sat there and thought about what he had said. Do we give in to love? Was love a fight? A battle of sorts? Don’t we just accept love when it finds us or we find it?

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When I climbed into the tent I thought he was sleeping so I tried to be a quiet as I could.
“Its okay. I am not sleeping” He stirred in his sleeping bag and turned onto his side; facing me as I settled into my own sleeping bag.
“Look at the stars tonight “
“I do every night, I can’t seem not to look” I answered back
He hadn’t put up the tent fly tonight .We had our own skylight to the world
“Do you know there are names to the constellations “he asked?
“I know there are but other than the Big Dipper and Little dipper; I don’t know the names “I answered back
“Well. Looky here “he said pointing. “There is the little dipper”. He move his finger again and says “there’s the Big dipper, and there we have the biggest dip shit of all” pointing at me and then pouncing on me; still in his sleeping bag.
He held me down “Resistance is futile. No sense fighting” he said and quickly added “Muah ha ha “
Even if I wanted to fight back; I couldn’t. I was tucked comfortably into my sleeping bag; much like a moth in a cocoon or a human taco.  He rolled off of me but stayed beside me pulling his arms above his head; resting it on my pillow. Our cheeks touched as we both gazed out into the night sky.

“I know what constellation is there” he said; pointing “all of them as one is simply called beautiful”
I shifted in my sleeping bag. As pleasant as it was lying side by side; I was getting warm. I unzipped my sleeping bag and swung out my right leg.  I pulled my arms out and rested them at my sides; brushing my left hand against his ribs.

“Man, you have cold hands “he said as he jumped a little
“Cold hands - warm heart “I said. My hands tend to get cold when I am nervous
“Maybe so; but it’s not your heart that is freezing my ribcage” he responded

He took my hand and placed it between his two hands and rubbed it. “Let’s see the other one now “He rubbed that one too.
“One more night and back to so-called reality” he said as he looked into my eyes. He had what I thought to be a look of sadness.

“I spy with my little eye; I see something invisible yet so beautiful”
“Invisible? That’s not a color “I said and added as my reply “the air we breathe?”
“Nope; wrong answer”
“I have no idea” I responded
“Umm I will give you one more hint. It is in the tent”
“I give up!” I aid with mock frustration pulling at my hair
“It’s your soul…goodnight “he said as he leaned a bit to the left and turned out the portable Coleman light.
I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours; switching sides and lying on my back.

“Are you still awake? “ I asked
“I am” he replied
“I spy with my damp brown eyes; I see something I love” I said nervously but I had to say it
“I know you do and I love you too”

There we were; side by side; staring at the stars; light reflecting the tears in both of our eyes.  I reached my hand down and rubbed my fingers on his hand.
“Let me guess; your hands are cold?”
“Not at all. I just want to hold your hand as we fall asleep”

…asleep side by side
…eyes open wide
…staring up into the vast space
…tears, roll down our face

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We woke up still holding hands; fingers intertwined. He was already awake.  “You could have woken me “I said
“You were peaceful. I didn’t want to bother you” he said stretching his arms and yawning.
I did the same. We both lay there for awhile still holding hands; wondering what today would bring.


We stepped out into the sunshine. I bent down and did up my laces on my shoes and pulled the sweater over my head and tossed it back into the tent.
“Come on. Let’s go”
“Where are we heading?” I asked
“Just follow me and we will either both know where we are, or we will both be lost”
“Aren’t we going to eat something first “I asked?
“Nature is ours for the taking. Besides, we have to be back in the city tomorrow; so let’s not waste anytime”

He started running ahead of me; full speed ahead! I quickly followed. We ran until we came to the peak of the hill. We were back in the fields of lavender. This time; it was he who rolled in the field; giggling like a child.  I fell to the ground alongside him; rolling along with him. We lay on our backs. Without asking; he reached for my right hand and placed it on his chest. 

“Feel my heart racing?” he asked. It definitely was beating. Mine was too.
“Feel mine” I took his free hand and placed it on my chest. The lavender seemed to smell stronger as it mixed with the beads of perspiration on our chests.

“Heavens scent that is heaven sent” he said; pulling handfuls from the earth. Some pulled from the ground; roots still intact.
“Maybe I will try growing some” he said as he continued to pull more from the ground.
“We are going to sleep good tonight. I am bringing some back to the tent” he said

We lay in the field; shirtless and sweating under the sun. A small pond of perspiration had gathered in his sternum.  I ran my index finger through it and down to his navel. I looked at him and he smiled. I smiled back; leaned over and gave him a single kiss on the cheek.  He kissed me back; not on the cheek bit; rather on the lips. Eyes wide open looking into mine; looking into my soul;”invisible yet beautiful” as he called it. We both keep our eyes open when we kiss one another; knowing it is just me and him.  He rolled over and lay upon my chest and with both hands rubs my shoulders and neck... It is difficult for me to keep my eyes open as it is so relaxing yet so exciting.  After awhile he stops and asks how it felt.  I told him it felt really good but now it was his turn.   We switched positions.  I rubbed some of the lavender between the palms of my hands and rubbed his neck and shoulders. “Oh man that feels good “he said; eyes opening and closing. He had fallen asleep. I let him sleep. I lay there with my chest against his side. ; running my fingers through his hair as he slept.

…beside me in this field you sleep
…in my heart; your love I keep
…my fingers run through your hair
…my eyes watch you; sleeping there.



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After he woke up we walked in a new direction. We came across an apple tree and grabbed one each and ate it on our way.
“Do you think we will get a chance to come back here before summer is over?” I asked
“I am hoping too. We will see “he answered
We finished our apples and walked on. Realizing he had forgotten his lavender he had picked; he ran back and gathered it up and caught up to me.
“Do you want to go to our willow tree?” he asked
We did. 

…I wonder why this willow weeps
…could it be because we carved its bark; and left our initials, as a lover mark
…does that willow weep in truly knowing?
… In knowing that our love is growing.

We sat at the base of the tree; carving our initials into the trunk.
“You carve mine and I will carve your initials” he said as he passed me the knife. I took the pocket knife and carefully chipped away at the bark; leaving his initials in the trunk. He took the knife from me and did the same for me. He added something else, a small heart with two stems of lavender growing from the top of it. Beside the heart he carved the date.

“Hey wasn’t it you who told me that memories stick with you; in your mind you don’t need mementos?” I reminded him
He kept on carving into the tree; not responding.
“All done! “He said. I looked. It was a piece of art for sure.
We swung on our tire, one at a time and both at once.

We walked back to the tent. It was already dark and we didn’t bother to start a fire. We lay our sleeping bags on the ground and stared up into the sky. We held hands; hearts connected; shared souls.
“Back in a minute” he said as he jumped up and went into the tent. He poked his head out.
“We should get back to the city pretty early tomorrow; maybe we should just head in to bed”

I gathered up our sleeping bags and passed them into the tent.  Heaven scent that’s heaven sent. He had placed lavender on the floor of the tent.
“You will sleep well tonight” he said
We didn’t sleep much at all. We talked. We hugged and we held hands. For the first time I had seen him allow himself to cry; to let his tears flow from his eyes. I cried along with him. For him and for myself and for us.  He fell asleep; two of us in one sleeping bag, my hand draped over his chest .His head rested on my chest... His sternum was wet; but not with beads of sweat.  Rather it was a mixture of his and my tears. I rubbed his head.
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The sun was once again turning our tent into a sauna; we threw off the sleeping bag and stepped out into the sunlight.  We gathered our things and packed up; not really wanting to.  The two by four that was carved with memories of our weekend poked out the top of my backpack.  We hopped on our bikes and headed down the path that came to the highway.  We barely spoke. He looked at me and I looked at him. Tears in both our eyes.
“Tell me this was all real “he asked me “Please tell me it was”
“It was and it is “I said reaching over to give him one more kisses.

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Labor Day we went back to the willow. We sat on our swing; lay in the field of heaven scent and sat on the walls of the farmhouse. He got up and walked to where the fire had burned. It was too quiet. Something had changed. 

“I have something for you “he said
He handed me a small package wrapped in Sunday comics. I opened it. It was a small sachet made from the pockets of his jeans. Sewed together with bright yellow thread.
“That thread is from the rope that our tire swing hangs by” he said; not looking at me
I knew by the scent of it; he had stuffed it full of lavender.
“I made that when we were here for the long weekend; while you were sleeping lying by my side”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have to , He knew how I felt about it ; just by the look on my face and the tears streaming down my face .  I wrapped the sachet back up in the Sunday comics. A square of paper fell out. I picked it up and went to unfold it.

“Not now please. Later. I want to go to our swing “he said.
I put the paper in my pocket along with the sachet
We went back to the swing and stayed until close to sundown.

I read the note --”We both know how Romeo and Juliet ended. As much as I want and still wish things could be different; they won’t. Romeo and Romeo are still taboo to so many people.  It will always be Our Willows. There is not a thing about you or anything that we have done; or things that we have said or done; maybe things that we’ve wanted to do or say to each other that I won’t remember. I will remember it all. You too’ will remember all that and that will keep us going. This is not goodbye. Every time I look at that star, it will be us.  When I smell lavender; that will be ours, you are likely hurting as much as I am; for that I am sorry and will always be sorry for. For what I received from you I am grateful and will be eternally grateful. I do love you. I could write an eternity about you and us; but it’s all there, in our heart and our minds,

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Why the Willow Weeps- The Finale

As I started down the hill; I took notice of a sign that read” Future Site of detached and semi-detached homes".  I continue on down the hill; keeping my eyes on the plywood sign and the willow that stood in ever grand style just to the left of the sign.
Ravelling yellow rope strung through an old tire blowing slightly in the breeze.  As I neared closer to the tire, a bird flitted from the tire and rested atop the willow; keeping an ever present gaze on me.

I circled around the tree looking at the initials carved in a heart at the base of the tree. The initials now had a scarred look them as the growth of bark had begun to take over.