Beaten and battered with limbs compromised by time and wind. Employed by the saints and sinners of the wood for protection and food. Your life is a constant battle for sun and earth alike. Deeply rooted with steadfast resolve, you have seen birth and death, the circle.
Ever present for two hundred years or more but even so your time is short. The fight is in the last rounds and you are weary, I can tell. You will give your space with reluctance, holding until the last. Fear not old friend, there are others…..they wait.