The Forest's Flower

Image Description: A brown-skinned naked woman with long, dark hair looks back over her shoulder while standing in the branches of a tree, with the sun shining through the leaves.

Caption: Carlos had chained himself to pipelines and picketed demolition crews before, but he'd never tried something like this, not on his own. That wouldn't stop him, not when he had the chance to save this old-growth forest. He stocked up on supplies, made a statement to the media, then climbed the tree to wait out the bulldozers and chainsaws.

Seven days into the protest, his resolve was stronger than ever, but his body wasn't. He was sick, tired, dehydrated, and starving. He thought the voice was just delirium, its thanks for his service just a trick of his dying mind, but the fruits sprouting around him seemed real enough.

He plucked them, eating real food for the first time in days, letting the nectar drip down his chin. He'd never tasted anything so sweet, so rich. The more he ate, the more he heard the voices of the trees. He stripped off his clothes and let them fall like autumn leaves. His rough bark gave way to the supple skin of a sapling. His thick, stiff branches became willowy stems. His leaves grew thick and long, while his body shed patches of dark moss. Finally, where once had been a stubby twig bloomed a beautiful flower.

Men still come to the forest, sometimes with axes, sometimes with saws, but always full of rich pollen. A visit to the forest's newest flower is all that's needed to send them back to their hives. Seeds have taken root, and next spring one flower will become two or three. The forest dreams now of blooming with a thousand such flowers.

That will take many springs, but the forest knows how to wait.

Commentary: A little more poetic than I usually go, but I think the picture demanded it.