I’m tired.

For many years I’ve been king of this clearing. 

For over 800 years I have stood here, watching my neighbours come and go. I’ve swayed with the winds that shivered through my leaves and made my branches tremble. I’ve danced to the rhythm of the rain as it pelted against my bark. Now my aged grains creak and groan as the weather bids me move. I am supported by stiff, cold posts that people installed to hold my sagging canopy.

But there is still life in me. Sap floods through my grains, every spring bringing a burst of energy that sends my leaves bursting forth as a vibrant green cocoon. Birds and insects flock to me, scurrying through my crevices, racing along my limbs and nestling in my cracks. They sing and call to each other, wrapping me in a thrum of sound. There are fewer now, but I provide for them still.

Over the centuries I have watched my colleagues fall to man or to weather. As my trunk thickened and split, theirs toppled, crashing into their neighbours or to the ground with such violence that branches were rent asunder and the ground vibrated with their landing. Now my neighbours are young. Too young.

…

Short Story in the making – I’ve yet to see where it takes me, but I’m excited to find out.

To learn more about the Major Oak and it’s home in Sherwood Forest, (and I always recommend a wander along the woodland paths) visit: The Major Oak – Sherwood Forest (visitsherwood.co.uk)