The tree on the corner was ancient.

She sagged under the heat of the sun, but when it rained,

Her canopy became a weathered shield.

Steady, tested, and true.

A young man in a tattered red hat ran through the downpour.

He slipped,

Falling under the protection of the ancient tree.

As he propped himself on his elbows,

Blood from his scraped knees mixing with the runoff,

He looked up at the great tree in wonder.

With a childlike whimper the man curled up at the gnarled roots,

Sinking into the tree’s embrace gratfully.

She, in turn, bore the boy’s world-weary bones,

Into eternity.