What the Young Tree Whispered in my Ear
I rested my head against the car window, adjusting my angle to avoid the sharp noon sun rays. They filtered through the thinning foliage of the young tree that caressed the car door. I looked up lazily. She was not a big thing, young - but not too young. She had not seen many winters I suppose, but enough at least, to give me respite against the glare of the sun, the kind of glare that looks specially sharper in the midst of winter. Until then, I had not noticed the tiny red flowers that were scattered scantily all over her branches. They danced in the soft breeze, carelessly, along with their green counterparts. The beauty of the scene mesmerized me, until nothing in my peripheral vision existed any longer. Suddenly, it was just her and me.
