Trees

I wrote a short story for a creative writing class in college that contained an image of a tree that the fiction editor “intensely disliked.” I couldn’t find quite the right word. I loved trees. I said that the trees “‘thrusted’ into the deep, deep, moist blue sky.” I knew that the word “thrusted” wasn’t right but I just couldn’t find the right word–and still can’t. I really did. I wasn’t supposed to know. I was on the prose board and didn’t tell anybody it was my story.

I was healed five or so years later at Wernersville state hospital where I read the Tolkien Ring Cycle and the trees walked in battle (the “ents”) and at the hospital there was a truly magical park with 100 year old trees.