By Sivan Pillai
Not knowing what woke me up, I lay on the bed. A full moon shone outside.
The gnarled cashew tree looked like a sentry. Its few leaves fluttered in the gentle breeze. The young birds in a nest made raucous sounds, while their mother tried to silence them.
The tree, too old to bear fruit, reminded me of my dead parents, siblings, and the first day with my wife, among many other things.
By the time the team of tree-cutters came in the morning, I had made a decision.
“Sorry, I’ve changed my mind. Please tell me what I owe you.”
What a wonderful, poetic story of aging!
Beautifully composed!
Thanks!
Thank you, Cheryl! It is sad that Friday Flash Fiction, where we could read each other’s compositions, has stopped functioning.
We think of nature for deep self -perception!!!