• Old and wrinkled clay hands, gentle and soft, like smooth marble, touch mine. Hold coffee which is sweet, rich, and dark. Her fingers twist, stubborn and strong. My frail guardian, though she would never agree.
    Trees loom overhead like silent shelter, blocking out the light. A blue-green tint bellows from the water. Ripples appear on tree bark and fireflies hover in strange patterns like notes on a sheet of music.
    Smiling, her gaze touches mine. Her eyes, wise, wrinkles spreading at the far corner like branches from a tree, show how much she smiles.
    Greenery erupts from the ground, flaunting and simply beautiful. As flowers unfurl their wings, leaves from the canopy dance in the wind, sometimes falling, twirling, to the ground. Butterflies stir silently.
    Shoulders sag with age, though tough and stern. They hold the worries of the world and the lives of her children.
    Crickets sing, hidden within the deep fortress of life, a maze of color. The sunlight that escapes the treetops shines over the leaves and glowing flowers briefly before the wind moves the leaves and the light is directed elsewhere. It is a brief glimpse of loveliness to the burning sun.
    Arms droop, but the shape gives her a certain character that she has never had before and does not like. She is aged, but she would never say so or act as such. Her will beams brighter than the sun, never breaking and always alive somewhere.
    The trees branches house many things including blue-green vines, looping down and snaking around the tree’s body like limp ribs, trying to protect, but unable to do so.
    Her legs shake, but only because she is tired. She fought and will fight the intruder, and she seems to be winning. Her life force is growing stronger and the light in her eyes is gaining brilliance.
    Unsuspecting leaves twisting in the wind, which is getting colder. Bright reds and oranges spring from glossy green surfaces before the full body of winter is upon the trees. Leaves fall from their homes in the treetops and without the life support of their mother branches die before they hit the ground.