ABSTRACT
Under overcast and gray skies, I trekked through the forest to seek out my tree, my first assignment. Raindrops trickled down my hood
and coated my eyelashes. I wiped them away and squinted at the fine mist that had settled. I continued on the trail until I found it, a lone tree that ceased to grow, surrounded by pines, spruces, oaks, and maples. I studied it for a while, droplets of rain falling from the foliage onto my paper. I pulled a clipboard from my backpack and covered the paper with a plastic bag. I glanced around the forest at the acres of trees surrounding me, feeling happily secluded. I clutched the board and scrawled a poem, holding the pen sideways under the plastic bag:
a patchwork of decaying bark covered in moss green and intricate scars carved by various inhabitants wraps itself around a willowy spindle for a trunk only to diverge as two lone branches . . . remnants of wilting leaves curl from lack of nourishment and cling to a protruding limb . . .
