Old Trees

 

I call this one “The Singer,” she throws her arms out and her voice explodes all over the land. She used to have two arms but now she has one. The big hole in her midsection allows the wind to whistle through and the stars to shine if you position yourself just right.

 

This is the one your mother always told you about. One-armed and shoddy, been that way for years, no hope for a better future.

 

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