I am shorter then the average tree. I stare at the evergreen and the maple and wonder what makes them so tall. My lowly stature starving below these monsters. What to I have to give with my tiny shadow length but fruit?
The humans, smaller then I, stand under my branches at pick at the fruit. It doesn’t hurt. I look at it as a way to pacify the strange warriors. They chop at all the other trees. They cut them to pieces and carry the pieces away but I stand here year after year. I feed them with my bulbous fruit so they will leave me alone.
In the winter, as I sleep, they trim away the dead branches and the extra weight. Its horrible pain but the attention gives me great pleasure. I am important unlike those other trees. They seem to be a nucence at times, except for when something hangs from one of the branches.
My branches are far too weak to hang from.
I guess I’m not so bad…