I was a forest nymph. Once, A long time ago, when humans were in their infancy.I was small and brown, and I ran through the woods, a breeze on the forest floor.The ground moved well beneath my feet.

We lived alone then, gathering once in awhile for a party or a talk. But mostly, we lived alone. My specialty was the pine. I could climb higher than most, not as high as some.  We were earth creatures.  No wings.  No flight. I never met a fairy.I don’t think they’re real.

I loved stories. I could climb a pine tree and listen to the leaves’ story for hours.  The birds would help; they added the music.They were air creatures. When the rains came, we danced.  Lightening flashes and thunder claps kept the beat and rhythm.  I was good at the dance.  Streams swelled.  The mud choked our feet, squished through our toes.  The forest dripped for a long time after the rains.  Then the dance stopped.

I don’t remember what I ate.  If I ate.  It didn’t matter.  The trees mattered. She was born to a good mother, the little doe with the spotted backside.  She was my friend.  So too her daughter, and her daughter’s daughter.  They were all good mothers.

When winter came, we slept.  I burrowed beneath my pine tree, and she kept me warm.  She was a good mother too. I saw the hut for the first time when I was old.  There were more when I saw it again.

I died when lightening struck my tree.  Of a tree I was born.  So too for a tree I did die.  She lived a long time.

I was a forest nymph.