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Apathy Girl and Other Tales

Musings of the Overly Naive Cynic

Outside of my bedroom window there is a Black Walnut tree. The summer before I started high school the Missouri weather shifted (surprisingly), and half the tree succumbed to the wind, but obligingly missed the house. Now the green foliage peeks timidly over the roof line, an awkward but jaunty hat. The tree has scars down its right side, new leaves growing around them, it might be trying to hide. Today there is a woodpecker on the tree, pecking at the scars. Initially, there is no effect. The woodpecker is persistent, continually piercing the scarred bark, trying to reach the softer parts. But after so many years of being broken, of being exposed, of being beaten by the elements, the tree is too much for the woodpecker to handle. He flies away before getting past the difficult parts, unaware if there was something worthwhile underneath.


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