|good short stories
For so many years the Sun pours its light and heat into the growing trees, the trees welcome and store the light in their very growth. Like us, trees do not live forever; some are uprooted by storms and washed down swollen river torrents to little eddies that hold them close and dear lest they be lost to the sea. The hunter of the salt marsh seeks out the fallen in their salt marsh chapel of rest and with the spirit of a younger man than his years carries the dead to another place. He carries them with care, for he does care, his heart is full of gratitude for the tree and the Sun. On a winter's night the Sun shines brightly again in the hunter's home; it warms his hands, it warms his heart. All played their part to the full;the Sun, the storm, the river, the salt marsh and eddies, the hunter and the match, they all played their part so well.
Mmmm, I think you know too much already, but what the hell. . . retired firefighter, martial artist and self thought philosopher, some say cynic, some say skeptic, some know the truth. . . . most never will.