Who could love a gnarly tree?
If you did – would it be called treeson?
Would you go out on a limb for a gnarly tree?
Important questions to ponder. We think we have some answers…
Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts a pic to write a 100 word story about.
This week it’s: Gentle Fiction
Out on a Limb
This is one gnarly tree. But it’s my gnarly tree.
Those knots are from limbs I cracked as I jumped on them. Boughs broke as I tied old tires to them, or swung like Tarzan from ropes.
Tree houses were built and rebuilt. Memories hang from invisible branches, like my arms around Amy and our first kiss.
This gnarly tree has never let me down; has always let me down, but gently, mostly.
It certainly has never left me out on a limb – or left me in limbo.
And though not a limbo tree, it’s been my “limb-oh!” tree.