The Tree

I wrote this a while ago, found it in my binder.

Stories tell of a most amazing pine tree. It's branches emerged from it's healthily large trunk in a perfect spherical fashion. There was not a spot of discoloration on it's beautifully thick nest of needles. It smelled of the most intricate and layered fragrance that pleased the nose in wonderful ways. It grew on a perfect snow-covered hill, with not a single member of it's brethren for a mile around. It stood tall and proud, like a monument embodying the true spirit of winter. All the animals of the plains stood in awe at this magnificent being. The humans, for the most part, knew not of it's existence, and those who did kept it as a most cherished secret. It is said that it is a thousand years old, that it was born on the winter solstice during a frightfully cold winter. Somehow it survived the tempest of snow and wind, year after year, flourishing and one day achieving the grandeur of it's current state. They say it is still standing today, and that is is blessed so that it may never perish by fire, age or axe.