The tree grew in unlikely soil, more stone than dirt. In its growth it had cast aside boulders as if throwing off a heavy quilt after a deep sleep. They lay solidly, looking at once unmovable and like so much litter cast idly to the side. The rapid expansion towards the sun had left deep splits in the weathered gray bark. A mans finger would fit to the second knuckle in the deepest furrows, and ants busily traveled up and down the shadowed path. Overhead, some manner of tiny beast was chittering a rhythm backup to the rustle and low creaks of timber in a breeze. The main trunk was relatively narrow, just wide enough to hold in embrace were one so inclined. Two meters off the ground the tree split suddenly in graceful counterpoint. One division immediately forked again, parting in a stretching yawn. The other frayed as it rose, an untended braid unraveling into the sky. Thousands of thin dark lines sprouted from the trees arms. A few slack branches hung low, heavy with clusters of spiky green leaves. Looking up from below, the overlapping display of shadow and light were as a rippling pond, pinpoints of white light twinkling through as the throngs of silhouetted greenery danced and surged.
The wind began to rise, and the gentle stirrings of the maple became the hisses and groans of protest. The swell of rustling became the steadier fall of rain on leaves, and the two came together like sisters whispering hasty secrets. The darkening sky reflected cool blue on the glistening leaves. The air whipped winged seeds from the ground and set them spinning in kestrel clouds.
Blinding light surged between the earth and sky, splitting a forked column into blistered shards. A wave of concussive force leapt booming in all directions. Old dead branches were shaken from their berths. A cloud of leaves fell together as if a ghostly robe had been shrugged off. A few licks of flame traced long vertical lines on the scarred wood, and drifting cinders hovered blinking like fireflies at twilight. Beneath the turmoil, roots clutched tight to the stones of its earthen seat. To thrive here, the tree had reached deep into the terrain, squeezing through cracks in the rock and becoming one with the underground labyrinth. The branches sway now seemed to taunt the storm, tossing to and fro, yielding only enough to spring back when released. Many storms had come before, and many still awaited the inspirational flap of a delicate wing.
Smoke rose thick and hung low in the downpour. The last of the fires was out. Years of healing lie ahead, but the tree was patient. And proud.
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