Sit A Spell

by Madeline I. Smith

A lone tree graced the hilltop with branches wide and shade so fine.  

I climbed the hill just to sit a spell, and the tree said to me:  Go out and live a story and come back and tell me.  You see, I collect stories.  That’s my job, said the tree.   

Oh, I said.  Do you ever reveal these stories?  

Perhaps, replied the tree. 

Then, I would like to hear some of your stories, for I am a writer.  

But first, said the tree, you must have a story to trade before I can tell you one. 

Perhaps you are right.   Maybe I should go out and live a story first, because I never did anything very exciting.

No, no, said the tree.  I couldn’t handle too much excitement.  Just dig in your bag of memories and you will find something.

I thought for a moment and said, I know!  I will tell you a tale that was told to me by the wind:  

It was a windy day, yet the sky was very blue with many fleecy white clouds all about, and a buttercup bent to touch the ground to tell an ant about some picnic crumbs.   A bright orange scarf fluttered, being held by the fingers of a bramble bush.  Someone had left it behind.  

The wind whispered:  She must have been very beautiful, for here is a hair bow of baby blue, and a shoe that only a princess could wear.  

The wind dusted the trail and said:  look!  Here are shoe prints of two horses headed North.  The lady wasn’t wearing riding clothes, because here’s a piece of lace on the  wild blackberry bush.  Could this be the Black Bandit’s doing?   We must go see!

So, the wind whirled the dust ‘round and ‘round until he had a large dust devil to hide in, and up, up the trail he went.  

There they are.  Just ahead of me, said the wind.  This is where I do my finest piece of re-arranging the landscape.  The wind whirled and whirled, missing the girl, but carrying the Black Bandit, horse and all, up, up  into the air, whirling them ‘round and ‘round, and then whisking them over the hill and out of sight.

The wind came back to where the girl was and wrapped her in a gentle breeze, and whispered to her horse to take her home.  The horse understood and trotted off in the opposite direction; and all was well.

So, the tree and I became friends and swapped stories from time to time.  

If you should pass this way, take time to stop and sit a spell.